Firstborn
by KayValo87
Summary: SEQUEL TO "ONCE UPON A STAGE" While on a hunt for a supernatural serial killer, Dean's past comes back to haunt him. But will this new discovery prove to be a helping hand, a road block, or a fatal mistake? HURT!DEAN, WORRIED!SAM
1. Chapter 1

Here is story #2, I hope you like it.

(BTW, the rating is just a precaution. There may be some racial violence later.)

DISCLAIMER: I do not now, nor have I ever owned the Winchesters or anything else recognizable in this story.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_September 1st, 1994_

Caroline checked her watch. Five minutes to go. She started to pull out the food, arranging it in the center of her blue flannel blanket. She knew her mom would freak if she found sand on it, but didn't care. This was special. It's not everyday a girl celebrates a three month anniversary with the world's most perfect guy. Pulling the bottle of sparkling cider out Caroline sighed. She had meant to snatch a bottle of her dad's wine as a surprise, but this would have to do.

Checking her watch, she saw there were two more minuets until he arrived. Caroline pulled a small mirror out of her purse and checked her make up. This was was no easy task with only candles and moonlight, and, the fact it was a crescent moon didn't help any. Another glance told her she had only one minuet to go. Caroline smoothed her cream colored skirt, straighted her pink blouse, and got the stereo ready. Everything had to be perfect when he arrived.

As minutes turned to hours Caroline watched the moon cross the sky over the lake. The candles had burned down... the food had gone cold... and still she was alone. Her watch told her it was now midnight, a full three hours after he promised to show up. With a heavy heart, she slowly put the food back into the picnic basket. He had given his word he would be there. She told him she had a big surprise for him... and he forgot. She wiped her tears with the corner of the blanket before folding it.

"I guess," she whispered to the night, "Dean Winchester is not the prince I thought he was."

**CHAPTER 1**

Sam closed the book he was reading, stretched out on his bed, and rubbed his eyes.

"What time is it?" He mumbled.

"Time for you to get a watch."

He groaned at his brother's lame joke and sat up so he could see the clock on the nightstand. 6:28pm.

"Dude," He set the book aside, "I don't think we are going to find a connection here."

Sam watched Dean carefully flip through old newspaper articles.

"People are going missing Sammy, and their has to be a connection somewhere."

"Yeah, I know, Dean. But we have been are this almost nonstop for over ten hours. There has to be a faster way."

"Well, if you have any ideas please feel free to speak up. Until then, we hit the books." His stomach growled, "AFTER we eat."

Sam smiled and shook his head. Very few things could distract his brother on a hunt... food was right near the top. Glad for a break, he shut down his laptop and put it in his bag.

They found a western style bar that advertised "the best buffalo wings around", and decided to try it out. When they came in a petite girl in a cute little cowboy outfit approached them. She was slender with short curly brown hair and bright green eyes.

"Well hey there," she had a strong southern accent, "how you boys doin' tonight?"

"Better now. Name's Dean." Dean flashed one of his famous grins.

"I'm Peggy." She smiled back, her green eyes giving him a once over.

Sam rolled his eyes at him and wondered off to find a table, leaving Dean to get to know Peggy.

He sat down at the table and placed their order with the first waitress that passed. Getting bored with waiting, he flipped out his cellphone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby. It's Sam."

"Hi Sam, how are you doing? Are you keeping Dean out of trouble?"

Sam looked in his brother direction and saw a few more girls had joined Peggy.

"You know Dean."

"That's not very reassuring, Sam."

Sam laughed, and turned his attention to the task at hand.

"Listen, Bobby, we are on a hunt and don't even have a clue what we are up against. You see, there are these disappearances, but they seem to be at random."

"Are you sure it's our kind of job?"

"Unless there is a 150 year old serial killer running around."

"How many victims?"

"Last count was 33, but if we don't stop him there will me three more soon."

"What's the pattern?"

"Six people every 24 years."

"And how do they die?"

"The bodies show signs of torture, but since they are found mutilated, no one is sure exactly how they died."

"Well, I'll see what I can find out for you."

"Thanks Bobby. For some reason, I just can't concentrate recently."

There was silence on the other end for a minute.

"When was the last time you talked to Julius?"

Sam sighed. It had been almost a month since he left his son in New York and he missed him like crazy.

"You think that's the problem?"

"H*%^, Sam, I KNOW that's the problem. When your dad was out of contact with you and your brother for more then a couple of weeks … let's just say, I lost count of the number of times Caleb or me dialed Dean's number and put the phone in his hands just so he could focus. Take my advice, call your boy before you loose your mind."

Sam smiled. Bobby always had the answer, even when the question wasn't asked. He hung up and scrolled through his contacts until he found the number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Julius. It's Dad ..."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean walked over to his brother, proudly showing off the three phone numbers in his hand. Sam had a real smile on his face, a sight that had been missing the last couple of days.

"You look happy."

"So do you."

"Yes, but I just hit it off with three incredible girls. What did you do?"

"I called my son."

Dean rolled his eyes, his brothers sense of fun had gotten way tamer since he found out he was a parent, but at least he was happy. Dean, however, refused to be pulled into the dull life and firmly stuck to his bachelorhood. Pretty soon, the waitress showed up with the food and beers Sam had ordered while waiting. As they ate their chicken, they reviewed the case that had them stumped for the last week.

"Okay, so three people have gone missing in this area." Sam began.

"I know this part." Dean groaned. "Their bodies are found one week after they go missing torn to shreds … the police think it's a serial killer … yada yada."

"Three people have died this year," Sam continued, "and three more will if we don't stop it."

"And we don't even know WHAT the b*s%a$d is."

"I called Bobby. He'll let us know if he finds anything."

Dean's attention was diverted when a gorgeous woman walked up to the microphone.

"Hi everyone. This first song is one that really hits home for me. I hope you enjoy it."

Dean barely paid attention to the music as he studied the tall beauty. She had long silky blond hair and sparkling gray-blue eyes. Her voice was like an angel's would have been, if he thought they were real. As she started singing he heard her words and they pulled him back to a summer he had all but forgotten.

"_He said the way my blue eyes shined  
Put those Georgia stars to shame that night  
I said: "That's a lie."  
Just a boy in a Chevy truck  
That had a tendency of gettin' stuck  
On back roads at night  
And I was right there beside him all summer long  
And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone ..."_

His mind saw a teenage girl smiling at him, with wide curious eyes. Sneaking off to the lake late at night ... eating Popsicles while laying on the warm hood of the Impala ... getting caught making out behind her shed ... falling asleep on the shore of the lake in each other's arms ...

"_September saw a month of tears  
And thankin' God that you weren't here  
To see me like that ..."_

He felt a wave of guilt when he remembered that he left town without even saying goodbye. Not that it was his fault. It was a spur of the moment thing, a witch was sacrificing people and Dad needed help … not that he could tell her that.

"_When you think happiness  
I hope you think that little black dress  
Think of my head on your chest  
And my old faded blue jeans  
When you think Tim McGraw_

_I hope you think of me-"_

"Dean!?"

He was suddenly jerked out of his memories and saw Sam staring at him.

"Dude, were just listening to a COUNTRY song?"

"No!" Dean scoffed. "But I WAS looking at the country singer."

He fixed his eyes on the way she swayed back and forth, trying to ignore the lyrics and burying the thoughts deep in his mind were they belonged.

After a few more songs, the singer went over to the bar close to were the boys were sitting.

"Why don't you call your kid again," he suggested to Sam. "This may take a while."

He got up and casually walked over to her.

"Hi, I'm Dean."

She looked at him carefully, then her eyes grew wide.

"This will sound REALLY weird, but have you ever had a black 1967 Chevy Impala?"

Dean was taken aback by the question.

"Yes ..." He spoke slowly, wondering if he would have been better off staying in his seat.

"You're Dean Winchester!"

He saw Sam straighten in his chair when she shouted out his name, looking around to see who else heard. The woman gave Dean a hug, while he was still trying to figure out what just happened. When she pulled back she had tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe it's really you."

"I'm sorry have we met?"

"Dean, that song … it was for us." She whispered.

He looked at her closely, suddenly seeing the girl he had all but forgot.

"Caroline?"

"So you do remember me?"

"Of course I remember you. How could I forget?"

He noticed Sam had joined them.

"Sam, do you remember Caroline?"

He gave him a strange look, before it occurred to him that Sam had only been eleven years old that summer.

"Um … almost 13 years ago, Lakeland, Georgia."

Recognition flashed over his brother's face.

"Oh, that girl that you got grounded over after you stayed out all night?"

She laughed while Dean glared at him. Of course he had to remember THAT!

"Oh, yeah the lake," she sighed. "Remember all those nights we spent there?"

"Yeah, turning up the music in the Impala so we could hear it by the water."

"Yeah, and that time I made the homemade picnic with all you favorite foods."

Dean wracked his memory and came up empty.

"Don't you remember that special night?"

"Of course I do."

Now when was it …

"No, you don't," her smile suddenly faded, "because you never showed up! I waited for you for three hours watching the candles burn down. You promised you would be there and I find out the next day your whole family skipped town. No phone call, no note, just gone!"

Dean looked at Sam, but his kid brother just looked amused. He'd have to get him back later. Turning back to Caroline, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

"Anything you want."

He mentally kicked himself, but decided not to take it back when he saw how happy Caroline looked.

"Great." She took his hand a and scribbled an address on his palm. "Meet me at my favorite diner, 9:00 tomorrow morning. Here's were it's at. I'll buy you two breakfast and tell you how you can repay me."

With that she was gone.

"Wow, Dean," Sam grinned, "you sure have a way with the ladies."

"Shut up." Dean muttered, studying the address.

He hoped that he didn't just make a huge mistake.

The next morning, he and Sam walked into the small diner just a few minuets early. She was already there, sitting on one of the stools at the long counter. Despite the time, there were very few customers. A couple sat in a booth in the corner sharing a large plate of pancakes, a woman read a book by the window while she ate her oatmeal, and a kid sat next to Caroline, absorbed in her biscuits and gravy. Caroline waved them over and they sat at the counter.

"Deb, get them whatever they want and put it on my tab."

"Sure thing, hon." The waitress replied, cheerfully, as she filled up the kid's orange juice.

Caroline smiled at the boys and picked up her purse.

"Well, I'm off."

Now Dean was really confused.

"Hold it." He caught her by the arm. "You said you wanted me to do something for you."

"Oh yeah."

She pointed to the girl on the stool.

"Dean, this is Nicki ... Nicki, this is you father … BOND."

* * *

Now Dean gets his turn to play dad ... but where Julius was an angel, Nicki ... you'll just have to wait and see. :)

I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. In the mean time, I would loved to hear from you. :)


	2. Chapter 2

I normally wouldn't post this soon, but I was eagar to see what people would think of Nicki once they got to know her.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Dean looked over the girl, besides the green eyes, she looked just like her mother. They gapped at each other for several seconds before turning to Caroline at the same time.

"You CAN'T be SERIOUS!" They said in unison.

He turned his head to glare at the laughter Sam was trying so hard to hide. Dean could see the ideas forming in that freaky head of his, regretting all the times he teased him about being a dad. But he would have to deal with his brother later, now he faced Caroline. She had a satisfied smirk on her face.

"You said you would doing 'anything' to make it up to me, Dean."

"Yeah … but this …"

Niki was still looking at him like he had two heads.

"This is my DAD? This is the deadbeat that ditched you at the lake?"

Sam snorted, quickly turning away, and Dean made a mental note to wipe that grin off his face later.

"Caroline, why didn't-"

"Don't! Don't say 'why didn't you tell me', because I tried. I was going to, that night at the lake … the night YOU left. You brought this on yourself and it's high time you faced up to it." She turned her stern gaze to her daughter, "and YOU, if I heard one thing …"

Niki held up her hands.

"I know, I know. Boarding school with the Brits."

Caroline nodded, grabbing her bag.

"Niki has a curfew of 10pm, don't be late. Be good for your father, and I'll see you two tonight."

Dean was about to protest, but Niki cut him off.

"Come on, MOOOOM!" she whined, "I was going to go to the mall today to pick up the cd I have on hold."

"Maybe Dean can take you."

H^%& no. He and Sam were working a hunt, there was no way he could play babysitter to a little girl, daughter or not.

"Today is not really a good day, Caroline."

"Dean …" She hissed, "you left me to raise OUR daughter alone for twelve YEARS, and your trying to tell me you can't give her twelve HOURS?"

Dean opened his mouth, but closed it when he say Niki franticly motioning for him not to say anything.

"That's what I thought." She turned back to Niki, who smiled sweetly. "Enjoy your father-daughter day."

"Sure Mom, whatever you say."

With that Caroline left. As soon as she was gone, Nicki turned to Dean.

"Okay, you don't want to do this, and I don't want to do this, so lets make a deal. You give me say … 50 bucks, and I'll go hang out at the mall. Tonight, I'll go home, tell mom we bonded and it was great. She'll never know the difference and we both get what we want. What do you say?"

Dean considered the option and pulled out his wallet.

"Dean!"

He glance up to see Sam staring at him in shock.

"What?"

"You aren't SERIOUSLY going to give 50 bucks to a kid?"

"No …" Dean removed a credit card from his wallet. "How do you feel about the name Max Guthry?"

"Works for me."

"DEAN!"

Groaning, Dean turned to his brother.

"Come on Sammy, how much trouble could she get into."

"I don't know, how much trouble could YOU get into at her age."

He paused. Sam made a good point. He looked back at his cards. The Max Guthry card was brand new with several hundred dollars on it.

"Jay Hatcher's card has less then a hundred on it."

"Dean. No."

"Hey, it'll be fine. Most places don't even check," Nicki assured him. "Besides, it's either that or you have to take me with you wherever you go today, and none of us want that."

"Or," Sam cut in, "we could always drop you off back at your mom's house."

"No you can't," she pointed out, "not unless you want her to know that you have stolen credit cards."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam. Where they seriously being blackmailed by a twelve year old?

"So boys," She leaned back against the counter, "what's it gonna be?"

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Leading the way back to the Impala, Sam noticed neither Dean or Nicki seemed thrilled with the final decision to bring her along, but it was the only option that wouldn't end at a police station. Halfway out the door, he caught site of the headline in the local paper. Straying from the group he purchased a copy and scanned the front page.

"_**NIGHT STALKER STRIKES AGAIN"**_

Dean joined him, peering over his shoulder.

"Crap," He groaned, "just what we needed."

"What?" Nick asked, appearing net to them.

"Nothing." Sam grumbled, folding the paper so the front page was hidden.

They headed again for the Impala when Nicki froze.

"Now what?" Dean grumbled.

Nicki slowly approached the car her hand hovering above the hood.

"This is a '67 Chevy Impala," She breathed, her voice full of awe, "and in excellent condition by the looks of it."

Dean and Sam exchanged surprised glances.

"You know cars?" Sam wondered.

"My uncle is a mechanic." She answered, not taking her eyes off the car. "He showed me the finer things in life. Man, this is better then the 1970 El Camino Uncle Rich restored."

Dean smiled and pulled out his keys.

"Hold it … she's yours?"

"Yup."

"Can I have her when you die?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean just grinned.

Ten minutes later Sam was rereading the article, trying to see if that latest victim could shed any light on their current hunt, while Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in tune to Blue Oyster Cult.

"Don't mean to be a drag here," Nicki leaned on the back of their seat, "but do you have any music from our lifetimes?"

"I'll have you know 'Fire of Unknown Origin' came out in 1981." Dean pointed out.

"Let me rephrase that, any music that came out in the last decade or so. Seriously, how can you have a awesome car, but no taste in music?"

Sam sighed and stared out the window. He was starting to get the feeling they were going to have a long day.

"BOC is a classic." Dean argued.

"Beethoven is a classic. Mozart is a classic. Willie Nelson is a classic-"

"Willie Nelson? You're comparing Willie Nelson to BOC."

"No, you are. I was just correcting your definition of classic."

"You want classic, listen to Black Sabbath, Motorhead, or Metallica. Now THOSE are classics."

"No, Kenny Rogers, Loretta Lynn, and Dolly Parton. THEY are classics."

"You actually LISTEN to them?"

"Not as much as Toby Keith, Taylor Swift, and Rodney Atkins." She slumped back in her seat, "At least I don't listen to any of that … Led Zeppelin crap."

Dean slammed on the breaks.

"Geeze Dad!" Nicki exclaimed, sliding off the backseat.

He glared darkly at her through the review mirror.

"Seriously, haven't you ever taken drivers ed?" She continued, climbing back in place. "Eyes front, hands at nine and two o'clock … wait … eleven and three … three and nine … two and twelve ..."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off a coming headache. This was going to be a VERY long day.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean parked in front of the apartment building where the last victim disappeared.

"Wait here." He ordered, stepping out of the car.

"Fine." Nicki muttered, stretching across the back seat.

Entering the building, it didn't take long for two hunters to find only room with police tape across it. While Dean sliced through the seal on the door, Sam picked the lock.

"I'm in." He whispered, slipping his lock picks back into his pocket.

"First credit card fraud, now breaking and entering?"

They turned quickly to see Nicki standing behind them, shaking her head in a disapproving manner.

"What will you two do next?"

"I thought I told you to wait in the car." Dean growled.

"I did wait," she insisted, "a good … thirty seconds."

Dean closed his eyes, so not wanting to deal with this right now.

"Nicki …" Sam said calmly, "just go wait in the car."

"Right, while you go rip off some missing guy?"

"We aren't robbing him." Dean stated.

"Than what are you doing?"

Nicki crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. Of all the things to inherit, did she had to get the Winchester stubbornness?

"We are trying to help." Sam insisted.

"So … you two are going to do what the entire Charleston police department can't?"

"Yes," Dean said firmly, "now wait in the car."

"How?"

"Well," Dean started, "you start by leaving the building."

"I meant how to you plan on helping, smarta#$."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

"Looks like Nicki never had a swear jar." Dean muttered.

"Fine," she shrugged, "If you don't want to answer …"

Nicki pushed past them and opened the door. Dean grabbed her shoulder before she could enter the apartment.

"What do you think you are doing?"

She shook him off.

"I'm gonna help too." Nicki ducked under the crime scene tape. "You coming or what?"

**~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam followed her into the apartment. It was a spacious one bedroom with a fantastic view. Looking around he noticed the expensive taste in furniture and art. This guy was no stranger to the high life.

"So what do we know about this guy?" Dean asked from the window, checking out the four story drop.

"He owned a five star restaurant." Sam answered.

"That explains his taste in wine." Nicki commented from the kitchen.

Sam looked around the corner to see his niece admiring a wine bottle.

"Aldo Conterno Granbussia, 1990," she proclaimed, "this stuff goes for almost $500.00 a pop."

"How do you even know that?" Dean asked, walking into the room.

Nicki shrugged, returning the wine to it's display rack.

"My Uncle Gavin ran a wine scheme for a while"

"How did that turn out?"

"He got out early for good behavior."

Sam shook his head. A mechanic and a con man … that figures.

"Didn't Caroline have three brothers?" Dean wondered, sweeping the room for EMF.

"Yup," Nicki nodded, "Rich, Gavin, and Brad."

"What does Brad do?" Sam questioned, moving back into the living room.

"He teaches ultimate fighting."

Of course he does.

"What's that?" Nicki asked.

Sam glanced back to see Dean sweeping the hallway.

"It's a … kind of scanner." Sam responded.

She gave him a puzzled look.

"What the h$*^ does it scan for? Radio waves?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it." Dean said, "just let us do our job."

"Aw, you really think I'm pretty?"

Before Dean could answer, the EMF reader started blaring.

"Um …" Nicki eyed the device, "is it supposed to do that?"

"Nicki," Dean's voice serious, "get back to the car."

"Wha-"

"Now!"

Something about his tone must have got through, because she left without arguing. Sam checked his gun, making sure he had salt rounds, before heading to where the reading was strongest. At least now they knew what they were dealing with … the question was, had they found it?

* * *

So, what do you think of Dean's little girl?

More to come soon, please let me know how I am doing. :)

(Side note: In case it wasn't completely clear, Julius is living with Sarah Blake for the episode "Provenance".)


	3. Chapter 3

Now that you have met Nicki, it's time to learn about the hunt ...

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Well that was a complete waste of time." Dean grumbled.

"At least we know it's a spirit." Sam pointed out.

Dean pushed through the door to the apartment building and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, but we have less then a week to find it before …"

He trailed off, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Do you have the keys?"

Sam patted his pockets.

"No."

Dean continued to search his own pockets, nothing.

"Did you put them down somewhere?"

"No I didn't put them down somewhere." Dean snapped "Someone must have-"

He cut off, sending a dark look toward the Impala.

"You don't think-"

Without waiting for Sam to finish, he stormed toward his car.

Nicki reached up to unlock the drivers door as he approached.

"Where are my keys?" He demanded.

Nicki shrugged, her arms draped over the back of the front seat.

"How should I know?"

"Dean."

Nicki looked to where Sam was pointing.

"Well," She smiled, "looks like you must have dropped them on the way out."

Dean glared, grabbed his keys off the seat, and climbed into his car. Something told him his daughter had learned about more than wine from her Uncle Gavin.

"I swear if you went poking around in my car …" He growled.

Nicki rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Seriously? There are only two locked sections in this car, the truck and the glove box. And last time I check, tire irons and maps weren't big on the black market."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. If she only knew …

"Why so jumpy?" She gave them a skeptical look. "Are you hiding a dead body in the trunk or something?"

Or something.

"New rule," Dean said as he inserted the key, "don't touch anything in this car besides the back seat."

She was too calm, skepticism made him wonder. Scanning the car he quickly looked for obvious damage that could of happened while Sam and him were investigating the apartment. Not seeing anything, he shifted his eyes to the ignition, turned the key … and froze.

"_-I should've been a cowboy_

_Should've learned to rope and-"_

Dean turned off the music before glaring back at Nicki.

"Really?"

"Hey! Dude, that was Toby Kieth," Nicki protested. "Do I get on your case for listening to BC/AD?"

"It's AC/DC," Dean corrected, putting in a cassette.

Any farther protests from Nicki were drowned out by the sound of 'Back In Black'.

**~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~**

Sam rubbed his temples, still trying to get rid of his headache. They had been at the hotel, doing research, for ten minutes. Apparently it only took five for Nicki to get bored.

"So how does this thing work anyway?" Nicki asked, turning an EMF reader over in her hands.

"By staying out of my stuff." Dean snatched the device from her.

"Who said it was yours?" Nicki grumbled, pulling a hunting knife out of it's sheath.

Dean shot her a warning glance over the top of his newspaper.

"Unless you want to make yourself an eye kabob, I would put that down."

Nicki rolled her eyes.

"Why would I put it anywhere NEAR my eye?"

"Why does anyone do anything these days," Dean looked back at his paper, "now put it back."

Nicki hesitated, weighing the knife in her hand.

"Don't make me count." Dean warned.

She sighed, returning the knife to it's sheath and putting it on the table next to Dean.

"What do you guys do around here?"

"This is pretty much it." Sam said, bringing up a new web page.

What did the victims have in common?

"Find anything?" Dean asked, from across the table.

"Not yet," Sam sighed. "There has to be some kind of connection. I mean spir-"

He caught off and glanced over at Nicki, who was laying across Dean's bed throwing one of Sam's shoes in the air and catching it like it was a baseball.

"These guys always follow patterns."

Dean nodded, picking up printouts of articles from the earlier attacks.

"So, what do we know about the pattern here?"

"They're always white," Sam started, looking back at his notes, "four men and-"

"What are you talking about?"

Sam glanced over at Nicki who was sitting on the bed, a puzzled look on her face.

"You guys have been pouring over newspapers for almost twenty minutes, and you don't know one of the victims was a woman?"

"You know about this case?" Dean asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Who doesn't?" Nicki flopped back on to the bed and continued to toss the shoe in the air. "It's all that the news talks about. Who is the night stalker? Where will he strike next? Yada yada. But one thing I DO know, is four people are gone and one was a woman."

So far, Sam thought grimly, turning back to his research.

"Just out of curiosity," Nicki said, "how do you guys plan on catching him?"

"Catching is not exactly the word." Dean muttered.

Sam glanced at Dean, showing him "the look" before sliding his eyes over to Nicki, who was whistling ... good. He'd take the whistling over questions about Dean and him killing someone any day. Sam twisted in his chair to look at his laptop ... hitting the mouse touch pad to knock it off screen saver he saw that his page was loaded. Sam silently groaned, 1- 1,500 results for obituaries of the great depression in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the year 1934 ... noting that the names were in alphabetical order, Sam started scrolling down to the page ... A ... B ... C ... There:

_"Carlton Digby, Farmer at the Wellington Range, dies from brutal __attack at age 42. His selflessness and courage giving to people in need despite segregation will always be remembered. Carlton leaves behind a wife, two sons, and two younger sisters."_

Sam reread the passage and sat back in his chair to think, trying to find the connection between the seemingly random attack of the six people. All of them where white... and all of them.... there was something about this passage that was bothering him … something that struck a cord- ... Sam saw a dark object fly through air towards him and was able to twist in his seat and sink down before he was hit in the back of the head ... Sam covered his head and waited another second before peeking at the object he was attacked with ... his shoe ...

"I'm bored." Nicki whined.

"We noticed." Dean stated, knocking the shoe off the table and moving on to another newspaper.

Sam kept an eye on Nicki as she wandered to the nightstand, before looking back at the screen, trying to remember what he had been looking at. Something in the obituary-

"_-cause where I come from_

_It's corn bread and chicken_

_Where I come from a lotta-"_

"Nicki!" Dean snapped, "if you don't turn that off in five seconds, I swear …"

"You'll swear?" Nicki interrupted.

"Yes … I swear. Turn off the d&%* radio or I'll call your mom."

Nicki paused, and shook her head.

"Normally a good threat, but my mom loves Alan Jackson."

"Then I'll have Sam hack into your … um …"

Dean snapped his fingers at Sam.

"Facebook." Sam offered.

"… account."

"If he was that good, he should know that a twelve year old is too young to be on face book."

"I don't think that would stop you." Sam added.

Nicki hesitated, before turning off the radio.

"The song was almost over anyway."

Sam shook his head. Never admitting defeat, just like her dad.

"So, what can I DO?" She asked.

Dean shrugged and returned to his research.

"As long as it doesn't involve country music or touching my stuff, I don't care."

"Just …" Sam thought of what she could do but came up empty, "find something to entertain yourself."

Sam went to look up the next name on the 1934 list, Dexter Sterling, a preacher from Maine.

"Crap." Dean muttered, shuffling through his papers. "Do you have the story from the first attack?"

"You mean last month?" Sam held up a newspaper. "It's right here."

"The FIRST attack, genius."

Sam looked through the papers, but the 1860's information was missing.

"It's not here." Dean let out a frustrated sigh, "We'll have to go-"

Sam saw a large object fly past him, crashing into his brother. He jumped up in time to see Dean push Nicki off of him.

"What the h^%& was that?"

"Entertaining." Nicki answered with a grin. "Besides, Uncle Brad said having a Kato around is good for your reflexes."

Smirking as Dean glared up at him, Sam reached down to help him up.

"That's it … I want to trade."

"Trade what?"

"Nicki for Julius."

Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Dean, they're not baseball cards. You can't just trade them."

"Who's Julius?" Nicki wondered, picking herself up off the floor.

"My son."

"Yeah," Dean added, sitting back into his chair, "his kid who lives with a rich family in New York so they can pay for his ballet lessons."

Nicki stared at her dad in horror.

"You want to trade me for a PANSY?"

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Dude," Dean snickered, "I told you."

**~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

"This is an upgrade," Nicki mumbled, "from a boring hotel room to a library, you boys sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"Well, I can always show a girl a good time," Dean claimed, before nudging Sam's shoulder. "Him on the other hand …"

"Shut up, jerk." Sam mumbled, inserting the micro film.

"B^&%$." Dean responded, leaning over Sam's shoulder.

He had to look at where the killings started so he could get a origin for the ghost.

"Here," Sam said, hading Nicki a stack of papers, "why don't you go through theses and see what they all have in common."

"Better then staring at the walls," she shrugged.

Dean scanned back to the earliest known case.

"Alright," he whispered to Sam, "Thomas Beckley's body was found mutilated in the woods near his family plantation in 1862, soon after his wife was also found in the same condition along with four of their close friends. All were heirs to wealthy plantations. Their killer was never officially found, but several people were blamed for the crime."

"By several," Sam whispered back, "you mean …"

"Nine."

"Perfect," Sam sighed, "who are they?"

"Um …" Dean pulled up another slide. "Abraham Goodrich and Clyde Delven were hung by a lynch mob when rumors spread that they were devil worshipers. Some people believed they sacrificed Beckley and the others to a demon."

Dean didn't know of any rituals so erratic as the killings, the only thing consistent about them was how long it took for them to die, but there was always a chance. He flipped through to the next possible suspects.

"Thomas Casey, Emmit Bride, and John Argyle were three union soldiers who were killed by a private militia." He summarized. "People thought they might have killed the victims for the sole reason that they were southerners."

"Not unheard of," Sam agreed, "who else?"

"John Conway," Dean read from the next slide, "a runaway slave. Conway was said to be very violent and had fought back against his overseer, nearly killing the man. They think he killed them because they were white and plantation owners. He was tracked down, but shot when he tried to escape again."

"Revenge?" Sam wondered. "That would explain why every victim is white."

"It's the same motive as most of the others." Dean shrugged, changing slides. "Edgar and Joseph Richmond, sons of James Richmond, were thought to have killed the six people to get revenge on their families for taking land from their father. The were hung before a confession could be made."

"Lynch mobs never were very patient," Sam commented, "who was the last one?"

"Edward Beckley."

Sam gave him a puzzled look.

"Beckley?"

"Thomas' younger brother. Motive was never found, but some of the friends and relatives of the victims claimed he was crazy and beat him to death."

Dean looked at the photo of the Beckley family. What would bring a guy to murder his own brother?

"So," Dean summarized, "we have nine possible suspects."

"Not quite."

Dean didn't like the sound of this.

"Please tell me you are about to make the list shorter."

"The original six victims."

"What about them?"

"Think about it Dean, angry spirits ARE born from violent deaths."

Dean let his head drop to his chest.

"Great," he groaned, "now we have fifteen salt and burns to do."

"Not if we can narrow it down first." Sam pointed out.

Looking over the mountain of research they had gathered, Dean sighed. At least Nicki was going home soon and they could focus. He glanced back at her as she silently scanned the pages she had been given and his mind started to wander …

"Dean?"

Snapping out of it he turned to Sam.

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah why?"

"You just … you had that look on your face."

Dean stared at his brother.

"What look?"

"That look you keep having since we met Julius."

Dean groaned, if there was one thing he NEVER wanted to talk about, it was his feelings. Not giving Sam a chance to protest he grabbed his coat and headed back to the car. He wasn't going to talk about this subject … he wasn't even going to think about it.

**~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean had been quiet on the drive back to Caroline's house, only asking for the occasional direction from Nicki. She also seemed quieter, almost like she was lost in thought, but hearing every time Dean asked which way to go. Sam knew it had to do with that look Dean had back at the library. What was he hiding? Why wasn't he telling him? Whatever it was, it was hurting his brother and Sam was determined not to let him shoulder the pain alone. But, this was going to have to wait a while, since Caroline's house was only five minutes from the library.

When they pulled up to the house, Sam heard a groan from the backseat.

"Oh man, I thought she was working tonight."

Sam noticed the red car in the driveway right before Nicki grabbed the back of the seat and leaned between them.

"You have to come in with me."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"If I go in alone, she'll think I ditched you."

"Do you really get into THAT much trouble?" Sam wondered.

"I don't like sticking around for boring things I don't really need to do."

"Like school?" Dean smirked.

"That doesn't matter, you're still coming in."

"Give me one good reason." Dean challenged.

Nicki thought for a moment before responding.

"Jay Hatcher's credit card."

Dean mumbled something and got out of the car, Sam close behind.

An hour, and one meal, later they were sitting in Caroline's living room clearing a few things up.

"So," Caroline admitted, "I guess it wasn't your fault that you had to leave so suddenly, if your Aunt Ellen was so sick. How is she now?"

"Oh, she's fine." Dean smiled, sipping his beer.

"But that still doesn't explain why you never called."

"I must have lost your number with all the stuff that was going on."

Caroline nodded in understanding.

"Well, the important thing is, you are here now."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, but neither responded.

"So," Caroline said, after a moment of silence, "Did Nicki tell you her full name."

"Mom," Nicki looked horrified, "why the h%*& would I have told them THAT?"

"There is nothing wrong with your name." Caroline stated firmly.

Nicki groaned and focused on her soda.

"I named her after our mothers." Caroline continued. "SHE doesn't think it suites her."

"Nicki suites me just fine." Nicki mumbled.

Caroline gave her daughter a stern look before moving over to the book shelf.

"Keep up that attitude and I guarantee they will hear your full name."

"Yes ma'am."

But the look of horror returned in full force when Caroline brought a large brown book over to Dean.

"Mom, I don't think he wants to see that."

"And why wouldn't he?"

Dean took the book and flipped it open.

"A scrap book?" Sam commented, noticing Nicki's birth announcement.

"Blackmail ammunition." Nicki grumbled.

"Nicole Mary Alice Trafford." Caroline scolded, "there is nothing in there that is embarrassing."

"Are you kidding me?" Nicki exclaimed, "what about the end of 1st grade?"

"That's not embarrassing. You were the cutest carrot in the class."

Dean raised an eyebrow and started to flip through the pages.

"Thanks mom!"

A minute later Sam joined Dean going through one of the most detailed scrapbooks he had ever seen. However, Dean move so quickly through pictures that Sam barely caught a glimpse of any of Nicki as a newborn, their family vacation to Arizona ten years ago, and her fourth and fifth birthday parties in the park. He could have sworn he saw Dean dwell on a couple of them, but he moved on too fast to be sure. By the time they reached first grade, Dean slowed down and the hunt for blackmail photos began.

* * *

I decided not to have a cliffy this time, but Nicki is not going to go away THAT easily. :)

Please let me know how I am doing. (It honestly does make me write faster to know people are reading it.)


	4. Chapter 4

I am SO sorry this too so long. I LITERALLY rewrote this chapter 4 times. (No joke)

Anyway, I hope it's worth the wait. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Dean past under the shadow of a oak tree, his boots crunching against the frosted ground. Despite the chilly Autumn day, the playground was full of children. He was drawn to the one girl who was not running and laughing with the others; she sat alone, tracing a pentagram in the sandbox with a stick. She looked up at him with bright green eyes and smiled.

"Daddy!"

Dean jerked awake.

"_State the obvious, I didn't get my perfect fantasy …"_

Oh h$&% no! Throwing off his covers, he stormed over to the bathroom door.

"Nicki!" Dean yelled, pounding on the wood. "Nicki open the d$&% door!"

_"I hate that stupid old pick-up truck; you never let me drive …"_

Dean stopped pounding and glared at the door.

"She's singing along, of course she is …" he mumbled. "NICKI!"

Dean continued to bang on the door until it swung open a second later, reveling Nicki brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

"_As far as I'm co__ncerned-"_

Glowering at his daughter, Dean unplugged the radio.

"What the hell?!"

"Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Grumpy-pants." Nicki grumbled, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked from behind him.

Nicki shrugged and pushed past them into the main room, taking a seat on Dean's bed.

"Mom had an out of town gig and said that I should stay with you for a few days. Something about thirteen years worth of shirked responsibilities."

"It's six in the morning." Dean growled, looking at the clock.

"So? I've been here since 5:30. You got any food?"

"Food? You woke us up at six in the morning, with country music, because you were hungry?"

"That's just stupid …" Nicki rolled her eyes. "I turned up the music because it was Taylor Swift. Duh."

Dean paused before looking at Sam.

"We are SO trading."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair, and looked around. Nicki was lounging on Dean's bed, flipping through a stack of printouts.

"Nicki?"

"What?"

"Dean?"

"He had visions of croissants dancing above his head."

"Nicki?"

"What?"

"Don't be a smarta#$."

Giving Nicki one last glare, Sam moved to where his laptop was sitting on and leaned on the table, scanning over the list of deaths in 1934. Finding no clues to the identity of the serial killing ghost or the connection between his killings, he grabbed a chair sitting on the other side of the table and started to review the next set of killings from 1958.

"So, what's with all the good Samaritans?"

"What about them?" Sam muttered.

"Why are a bunch of do-gooders being killed off?"

The articles Sam found on Lt. John Albert Sherman seemed to emphasize her question. Born in 1925 to a upper-class family, John volunteered his time to helping the war effort, after the attack on Pearl Harbor, effort until he turned seventeen and enlisted in the army as a corpsmen. In 1946 he started medical school and, upon graduation, John re-enlisted so he could treat the wounded in Korea. When the war ended, John finished his last year in the military stateside before spending a year and a half bringing medical care and supplies to remote villages in Africa. He had been home less then a month before his body was found.

"Ew, this guy. He definitely wasn't a Samaritan."

Pulled from his thoughts, Sam looked over to see her holding up one of the printouts for him to see what she was referring too.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, leaning over to take the paper and scan it.

"Robert Fairchild. He was a total jerk."

Sam frowned, and rescanned the printout.

"How do you know that?."

"I used to live in Boston." Nicki shrugged, picking up another print out. "My best friend's parents knew him."

Sam gave Nicki a small smile and raised his eyebrows.

"You still in touch with them?"

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

"No way … really? … she didn't … what did Brian say? …"

Dean stopped short at the sight of Nicki lounging on his bed, with Sam's phone glued to her ear, while his brother glared at his laptop. Sam looked up when he set the bag of breakfast bagels on the table and Dean shot his brother a questioning look.

"She is grounded from her cell phone until her mom comes back." Sam grumbled, typing on his computer.

"So … she charmed you with her good looks?"

"She is talking to her friend Mandy whose parents knew one of the 1982 victims."

"His name Brian?"

"No."

"I think you just lost your phone."

Sam sighed and gestured for Dean to give it a try.

"Nicki," Dean said loud and firmly, "stop messing around."

She rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Sorry, that's just my dad … yeah, the one who ditched Mom at the lake … I don't know, I guess he is road tripping with my uncle or something … Really? … No way … in the fountain? …"

Nicki laughed and rolled over on her back. Sam shot him an I-told-you-so look. Dean tried a different approach.

"We need that information."

"Chill out," Nicki groaned, "sorry, my dad again … I know … can you believe he hates my music? … I know …"

Okay, he tried firm, he tried gentle, time for plan C.

"Nicki, d^&%$ it! Now!"

"Did you know that Bob Fairchild was murdered? …"

Dean shot Sam a triumphant grin. John Winchester style, crude but effective, it never fails.

"I know … yeah, isn't that gross? …" Nicki continued, "didn't your dad know him? … really? … no way! … oh man, you never told me that before … well I guess … so, Bob had a secret life huh? … oh, wow …"

"Nicki." Dean gestured for her to wrap it up.

"Hey, I got to go … yeah, I'll call you later. Bye Mandy."

She hung up the phone and tossed it back to her uncle.

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked, pocketing his phone.

"Well, Jason Kilmartin is going out with Stacy Gold, but Stacy really likes Brian Taylor and-"

"Save it for Oprah," Dean snapped, "what about Bob?"

"Boy," Nicki gave him an amused smile, "someone needs to switch to decaf."

"Nicki, please." Sam sighed.

"Alright," Nicki caved, "Bob Fairchild was a major bully. It was rumored that his dad was part of the KKK. Anyway, turns out Bob had this thing for a girl named Charity."

Nicki stopped there and picked up a magazine. Dean waited for a minute or two, but Nicki seemed lost in her own world.

"And?" He prodded.

"And what?" Nicki looked over the magazine, "His dad was in the KKK, he was a jerk to everyone, and had a secret love. The guy died a ten years before I was born. What else did you want me to do, consult a magic talking board?"

She went back to her magazine and Dean turned his attention to passing out their breakfast.

"Does Charity have a last name?"

"She didn't say."

"Do you think to ask?"

"Nope."

Dean was about to respond, when Sam cut him off.

"I've got Bob's rap-sheet."

"Wow." Dean commented, leaning over his brother's shoulder."Looks like he could win the award for assault charges."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"But nothing on anyone named Charity." Sam sighed.

"I did say it was a secret love." Nicki said from behind her magazine.

"I'm going to run checks on the other victims," Sam stated, pulling up a new page, "see if any of them had secret lives."

"Good," Dean agreed, "start with the ones last month."

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat opposite of Sam, picking up the other printouts from 1982.

"Do you know anything about Janet Hatcher?"

"Only what's on the paper." Nicki murmured, engrossed in her reading.

It suddenly dawned on Dean what kinds of magazines they had floating around the hotel room and he took a quick glance, relieved to see it was only classic cars. No porn for Nicki.

"So, there is nothing else you can tell us about the murders in the 80's?" He clarified.

"Nothing you don't already know."

Dean watched as Nicki hid behind the magazine. She was bored and loud for the last day and now she is behaving? Classic cars are great, but not THAT good.

"Hey Dean, check this out."

With one last look at Nicki, Dean joined Sam at the laptop.

"What do ya got?"

"The third victim visited this place fourteen times before he died."

"A clinic? Was he sick?"

"I don't know, can't get into their system."

Dean looked through his papers, but found no medical records for Bryce Lennox.

"Can you hack their system?"

"Not in our time frame."

"Right," Dean nodded, "old school it is."

**~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam got out of the Impala and straightened his tie, looking up at the four story clinic, hoping this wasn't another dead end. Dean barely gave the building a glance and leaned inside the driver's side window.

"Stay here." He ordered. "Touch nothing, DO nothing."

"Jeeze Dad, I got it already."

Dean stepped away from the car, double checking that he still had his keys.

"Don't you think you are being a little paranoid?"

"No Sam, I don't." Dean answered. "If that kid is anything like me, she will find a way to cause trouble."

"You never caused that much trouble." Sam argued, heading toward the medical building.

"Oh yeah? What about the time I spent the weekend in juvy?"

Sam grimaced at the memory. Dean had only been protecting him from a gang of schoolyard bullies. They broke his arm and Dean sent all three of then to the hospital.

"That wasn't your fault." Sam said quietly.

"I'm not taking any chances."

The conversation was set aside as soon as the passed through the glass doors, both slipping into the roles that would get them what they needed.

"May I help you?" An attractive brunet at the front desk asked.

"I hope so." Dean responded, flashing a smile. "My name is Mr. Tabano, this is my partner, Mr. Whitford. We work for Knight Insurance Company and need Bryce Lennox's medical files."

She checked their identifications and turned to her computer.

"Can I have the name again?"

"Bryce Lennox." Sam answered.

She looked at the screen and frowned. Typing a few more commands, her frown turned to confusion.

"I'm sorry, we have no record of a patient by that name."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Are you sure?" Sam wondered.

He knew this was the right clinic, and that Bryce had written a check here every week for over three months. But when the woman looked again she just shook her head.

"Sorry, as far as I can tell, Bryce Lennox was never a paitent at this clinic."

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Because," Sam cut in, when she gave them a strange look, "our records show he has come to this clinic over a dozen times."

"I'm sorry, but I have only been here for a few weeks," she looked around, "let me find someone who has been here longer, see if they can help."

"Thank you, we'd really appreciate it."

The woman flagged down a nurse with graying brown hair.

"Marta, do you know if Bryce Lennox was a patient here?"

"Bryce? Oh, he wasn't a patient." The nurse explained. "He came here with Maggie."

"Who's Maggie." Dean questioned, turning to the nurse.

"Who are you?"

"They're from Mr. Lennox's insurance company."

"We understand Mr. Lennox made payments here once a week." Sam prompted, pairing the puppy dog eyes with a small smile.

"The checks were for Megan Harley," Marta explained, "she was Bryce's neighbor, sweet girl. Shame what happened to her."

"What happened?" Sam and Dean asked in unison.

"Maggie was in an accident almost a year ago, hit and run." Marta answered sadly, "Bryce drove her to therapy and paid all the bills. I don't know what she is going to do now that he's gone."

Sam inwardly sighed, thanked the women, and headed towards the car. Another good Samaritan.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

"This thing is SO dead." Dean vented as they headed back to the car. "these people do nothing but help, why the h*%^ does it get off killing them?"

Sam shrugged, but didn't answer.

"We only have five days to save Ross Bradford, and who knows when someone else will go missing."

Dean stopped his rant when something caught his eye.

"Ah H$&^ no." He growled, storming over to the Impala.

Nick was sitting cross legged on the hood, an iPod balanced on her knee and an open bottle of pink nail polish sitting next to her.

"She needs wide open spaaaaaceeeees" Nicki sang, as she stoked her nails with the tiny brush, "room to make a big miiiiiiistake ..."

"Nicki!" Dean called, not taking his eyes off the open bottle on the hood of his car.

"She needs neeeeeeeew faces, she knows the-"

"NICKI!"

She looked up, pulling her headphones out of one ear.

"What EXACTLY do you think you are doing?"

"I think I am painting my nails."

"Why are you doing it on the hood of my car?"

"Well, you didn't want me to spill nail polish on the back seat, did you?"

"So you decide to spill it on the hood instead!"

"Chill, Dad," She dipped the brush back into the bottle and brought it back over to her hand. "I'm not gonna – oh man."

Dean was sure his heart had actually stopped for a second.

"I got nail polish on my thumb." Nicki grumbled.

Dean let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding, glaring at Sam's smirk.

"Nicki," he growled, "get in the car."

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

While Dean had his turn with the laptop, Sam looked over their list of suspects. Most of the motives were revenge, which didn't make sense with the later cases. Not every victim was a southerner, so the union soldiers were out.

"How's it going?"

"Well," Sam crossed out three names, "I have narrowed it down from fifteen to twelve."

"Great." Dean muttered. "I'm finding a problem with our good Samaritan theory."

"What?" Sam questioned, looking up from his papers.

"At least eight of them were total dicks."

Sam frowned. If acts of kindness weren't the link, what was?

"So," Dean continued shutting the laptop, "the only connection is they're all white."

"Perfect." Sam groaned, tossing down his pencil and rubbing his hands on his face. "We are no closer to solving this then they were in 1862."

Sam looked over the papers covering the table. The body count would go up in five days and they were at a road block.

"Maybe you just need a fresh pair of eyes." Nicki suggested, setting aside her magazine.

Dean scoffed a little and opened up the computer. Nicki scowled and her dad and grabbed a few printouts off the table.

"I'll tell you one thing," She said, scanning the pages, "you can scratch the first six off your list."

"First six?" Dean asked, looked up from the screen.

"Yeah, the first six."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered.

Nicki rolled her eyes.

"The first six people who died were only victims; you're looking for the ghost of their killer."

* * *

I'll get the next one up as soon as I can. (It should be up in less then a month this time.)

In the mean time, I thought I would give you an example of why my editor, and NOT my sister, help me write.

This is my sister's version of Dean's dream ... with a few adjustments from my editor.

Dean's pants walked among the trees, enjoying the warm spring day. The musical sound of a child's laughter surrounded his pants, but he didn't see anyone else on the path, only pink elephants. As the faded jeans approached the edge of the trees they saw a small girl, no more then four years old. She smiled up at the jeans with innocent bright green eyes.

"Daddy's pants!" She squealed. "Lookie, pink elephant! Lookie!"  
Then there was something about Santa and I stopped listening to my sister.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the wait. My first full time job is taking a lot out of me. But, don't fear, I am still writing in the evenings. :)

So, without farther delay, here's the next part ...

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Sam slowly set down the print outs, keeping his gaze on Nicki. Did she just … but how could she … what the h^%&? A brief glance at his brother showed him Dean was just as shocked as he was.

"What did you say?" Sam questioned.

"Okay," Nicki spoke slowly, "I said the ghost you're hunting is the same guy who killed the first six victims."

"You know about hunting?" Dean half yelled.

"Obviously." Nicki rolled her eyes. "How else would I know about the ghost?"

"Why do you think the ghost is the killer and not a victim?" Sam questioned.

"Check this out."

Nicki picked up the notes on the first killings and started to flip through the pages.

"Thomas will always be remembered for his kindness and compassion … the goodwill of Fredrick Crevey will never be forgotten … more kindness … generosity … more compassion … gentle … more goodwill …kindness again … charitable … another goodwill … loving … giving …" She looked over at Sam, "do these sound like psycho serial killers to you?"

"Well," Sam started, "there have been cases where good people have been brutally murdered and became angry spirits."

"YOU know about hunting?" Dean repeated.

Nicki nodded slightly, but kept her focus on the research.

"So … there's no way to know for sure?"

"Not until we find him." Sam confirmed.

"Alright," Nicki shrugged, dropping the papers back on the table, "how do we find them?"

"You know about HUNTING?"

"Yes already!" Nicki half shouted.

"How the H&%$ do you know about hunting?" Dean demanded.

Nicki walked over to Dean's bed, pick up the magazine that she had been reading, and pulled a black leather book from between the pages.

"Good read," She said, tossing it to Dean. "I especially liked the colorful language used to describe the shatreega … stratiga … the witch that eats kids."

Dean looked down at the book before glaring at his daughter, while Sam had a slight feeling of deja vu.

"It's a shtriga, and what were you doing with my journal?"

"I started reading it in the car on the way to the library," Nicki admitted, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. "At first I thought you were both nuts, but all these killings are just too weird to be normal."

"And you're OKAY with this?" Dean asked.

Sam had to admit, people generally didn't except their line of work without first seeing something more than printouts.

"Well … I was thinking, if the walking spirits tour was real …"

"The what?" Sam interrupted.

"Dude!" Nicki threw up her hands. "The walking sprints tour of Boston is one of the top ten ghost tours in the country! I thought you guys knew about this stuff."

"Most tourist stuff is a load of crap." Dean replied dryly.

"Whatever." Nicki shrugged. "So, can I help or what?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean beat him to it.

"No."

"But you let me help before!"

"No," Dean corrected, "we let you read."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is, you're not a hunter."

"But what if-"

"I said no." Dean stated, ending the conversation.

Sam watched the two stare each other down until Nicki looked away. Dean turned back to the laptop, apparently satisfied that the matter was dropped, but the fire in his daughter's eyes let Sam know, this discussion was far from over.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean stepped out of the car and leaned in the window so he could see his daughter in the back seat.

"Stay right here. Do not touch anything, do not do anything … and stay out of my stuff."

Nicki rolled her eyes, placing her headphones in her ears. She had been been giving him the silent treatment ever since he banned her from hunting. No matter what she thought, Nicki was not ready for a hunt. She could stay mad at him for the next decade for all he cared, as long as it meant she would survive it.

He followed Sam around the large white building to the side door.

"Why is it we can just walk right into hospitals, police stations, and county records offices … but we have to break into the tree hugger's club?" Dean asked, smirking.

Sam just rolled his eyes and quietly picked the lock. Slipping inside, the two made their way towards the records room.

"Here," Sam whispered, finding the right door.

Dean kept watch as his brother took care of the lock. Stepping into the room, Dean glanced at the walls of filing cabinets.

"For an environmental group, they sure use a lot of paper." Dean commented, pulling open one of the drawers.

"They've been around since the 70's, Dean." Sam muttered, settling at a computer.

Dean flipped through the files while Sam went to work. He wasn't expecting to find anything, the drawer was filled with things from 1977, but still something caught his eye. Pausing, he pulled out an old photograph of a group of flower children planting a tree.

"Sam." He called, bringing the picture over to his brother, "Does he look familiar to you?"

Sam studied the faces and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"That's Phillip O'Mally, one of the victims from '82."

"You think the ghost hates hippies?"

"It's a thought," Sam admitted, "But there weren't a whole lot of hippies around at the turn of the century."

Dean shrugged and pulled out the file that went with the photo.

"He worked on a park project." Dean summarized, "Not much more then that."

"Sounds like our other victim." Sam said, peering at the screen. "Victoria Wilder went on two trips to try and clean up beaches in the area. That's it."

"So … we have two part time environmentalists who were both killed by the same ghost. You think it's a coincidence?"

"It must be, there is no connection to any of the other victims."

Dean looked back at the notes from 1977. Something had to be there. He looked at the picture again, noticing how Phillip had his arm draped over a, red haired, woman's shoulders. He checked the file for her name.

"Hey Sam, could you look up the file for Deborah O'Mally?"

Sam typed a few commands and brought up a file.

"Looks like she is still an active member ... and she lives in town."

"Great, let's go."

Sam logged off and Dean slipped the file back in the drawer. No sooner were they back in the hall when a voice called out to them

"Excuse me, what are you doing in here?"

Whipping around, they came face to face with a stern looking man with graying black hair.

"Oh … um … we were just …" Sam stammered.

"THERE you are!"

Dean glared at the familiar figure coming around the corner.

"I told you four times Dad, we have to go to the THIRD floor."

"Excuse me." The man repeated, frowning at Nicki.

"Sorry Mr. Warren, my dad just got a little lost. Mom says he has the directional skills of a sock monkey."

The man gave her surprised look, studying her face.

"Do I … do I know you?"

Nicki's jaw dropped in shock, her expression of pure innocents.

"Mr. Warren, don't you recognize me? I come here every other Saturday to help with the park clean ups. You yourself told me that I was the best you had for scrubbing graffiti. Remember?"

He squinted a little, clearly having no idea what she was talking about. When Nicki's face turned to a pout and her eyes starting to mist over, the man's expression went from alarmed to smiling in seconds.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said quickly, "we have so many volunteers it's hard to keep track."

"It's okay," Nicki grinned, "I understand."

She gestured toward Dean and Sam, half turning down the hall.

"Come on Dad, you said you wanted to meet Mrs. Rose."

"Uh yeah" …" Dean grinned, "yeah I did."

He and Sam followed Nicki down the hall and straight to an exit.

"Are you physically incapable of staying in the car?" Dean asked, as soon as they were out of the building.

"You're welcome." Nicki grumbled.

"Have you been there before?" Sam questioned.

"Do I look like the kind of person who spends their weekends cleaning parks?"

"Sure, if it's court ordered." Dean interjected, unlocking the car.

He could feel her glare burning into the back of his head as he slid into the drivers seat. At least she was talking to them again.

"How did you know who that guy was?" Sam wondered, getting into the passenger seat.

"So, the mighty hunters didn't notice the, five by nine foot, photo directory on the wall." Nicki smirked, putting in her headphones and shaking her head. "Sad really."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam scanned the menu trying to decide between a sandwich or salad. He hadn't had a turkey club in a while, but their house salad looked really good to. Catching sight of his brother scanning his own menu, Sam shook his head in amusement. He didn't understand why Dean bothered to read the menu at all, especially after seeing the special. Ten bucks said he would order the blue ribbon bacon cheese burger with extra onions.

"How are the burgers here?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"I don't know," Nicki shrugged, drawing stick figures on her napkin, "I've never had one."

"I thought you said you come here all the time." Sam commented.

"I do, I've just never had a burger."

Dean stared at his daughter.

"Wait, you've NEVER had a burger?"

"What can I say? Mom doesn't trust ground meat."

"Trust it?" Dean exclaimed. "It's MEAT."

"She is convinced that the beef isn't all beef."

"This isn't bologna or a hot dog we are talking about," Dean continued, "This is a HAMBURGER."

"I'm not allowed to eat those either." Nicki said casually. "The chicken strips are good."

Dean shook his head and signaled for a waiter.

"I have to fix this."

Sam rolled his eyes as a perky waitress approached the table. Dean smiled up at the bottle brunette in her bright yellow uniform, double or nothing he would have her number by the end of the meal.

"Hi, I'm Jessica and I'll be your server today." She said, flashing a large smile, "what can I get for you?"

"We," Dean motioned between him and Nicki, "will have two hot dogs, with everything, the blue ribbon bacon cheese burger with extra onions-"

"Eww." Nicki made a face.

"-and fries. That's it for us," Dean grinned, "Sam?"

"I'll have the turkey club with a side of salad." Sam ordered.

"Coming right up."

The waitress walked away and Dean returned to his beer, looking very pleased with himself.

"It's not that big a deal." Sam mumbled, as soon as Jessica was out of ear shot.

"Not a big deal? Sam, she's deprived."

"Dean, we are talking about a hamburger."

"AND hot dogs."

"You forgot bologna." Sam smirked.

"Well, she can live without bologna."

"I think I have lived without any of them." Nicki pointed out. "And for the record, I HATE onions."

"So," Dean shrugged, "you can pick them off."

Nicki narrowed her eyes and went back to doodling on her napkin, ignoring them until their food arrived.

"Here you are."

Jessica set out their plates and looked around the table.

"Anything else I can get for you?"

"No, thank you." Sam said, picking up his fork.

Nicki stared at her food as if she was trying to decide what to do with it.

"Are you sure this is all beef?"

"It's fine." Sam assured her.

"Okay, but if I die from salmonella, Mom is going to kill you."

"You can't die from salmonella." Dean mumbled around his food.

"Actually-"

"Shut up and eat the freaking burger."

Nicki pulled off the top bun, scrapping away the onions, before picking up the burger. Her eyes grew wide with the first bite.

"This is fantastic!" She exclaimed, taking another bite.

"Told you." Dean grinned, finishing off his half and starting on his hot dog.

Nicki happily wolfed down her food.

"Can we have this for dinner too?" She asked, licking the ketchup and relish off of her fingers.

"Sure." Dean shrugged. "I still can't believe you hadn't tried one before?"

"Yeah, well, Mom didn't let me."

"What about at birthday parties and barbecues?" Dean questioned.

Nicki cast a sad smile at her empty plate.

"Can't miss what you never had." She said quietly.

Seeing a hurt look in her eyes, Sam got the feeling she wasn't just talking about food.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Nicki look up grinning, whatever emotion that had been there before was gone, and pushed back her chair.

"Never better. I'm going to go wash my hands."

Sam watched her go, wishing that the people in his family would stop hiding things from him. He turned to Dean who was calmly finishing his fries, and wondered if his brother was even aware of what just happened.

"Something is bothering her."

"She is a teenager Sam," Dean sighed, "the world is bothering her. Besides, we have bigger problems"

He knew Dean was right, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to help. Nicki was just like her dad, both of them trying to carry the world on their shoulders. And just like with Dean, he wasn't about to let her do it alone.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean walked out of the bar, slipping a wad of cash into his pocket. As he strode towards the Impala he felt great. They had made some progress on the case, Nicki was finally starting to behave herself, and, thanks to the local pool shark, he was three hundred dollars richer. Life was good.

Pulling up to the hotel, he saw Nicki seated on a half wall, outside their room, singing along to her ipod while she messed with something in her hands.

"It never did me any good before, so long ago I locked that door, but please don't- Oh, hi Dad."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Um … nothing." She grinned innocently, shoving what looked like a lock and a paperclip into her pocket.

"Uh-huh." Dean shifted his gaze between her fake smile and pocket.

"Hey," Nicki said, quickly changing the subject, "is Sarah Uncle Sam's girlfriend, or Julius' caretaker."

"A little bit of both," Dean answered, pulling out the room key, "why?"

"Because he has been chatting it up with her for two hours."

"Chatting it up?"

Dean shot Nicki a "what the h#*$" look and swung the door open to see Sam on his bed with a huge smile on his face.

"Yeah? … that's great … okay … I'll talk to you later … bye Sarah."

"Don't get off on my account." Dean grinned.

"Julius got the part of the scarecrow in the schools production of The Wizard of Oz." Sam announced, tossing his phone onto the nightstand.

"Isn't he a little short for that?" Dean wondered, taking off his coat.

"He's going to wear stilts. The drama teacher thinks it will add to the character's natural awkwardness."

"And that's … good?" Nicki asked, picking up Dean's journal.

Dean took it out of her hands, replacing it with a car magazine.

"The scarecrow is a major role." Sam pointed out. "He's also the youngest person with a lead."

"Mazel tov,"Dean muttered, "speaking of leads, how are we doing with the widow O'Riley?"

"O'Mally." Sam corrected, pulling out the laptop. "I found her address and something else that might be of interest."

"What's that?" Dean asked, peering over his brother's shoulder.

"The Phillip O'Mally Foundation."

"Well," Dean scanned the website, "it looks like Phillip was a Good Samaritan after all."

* * *

As requested by monkeymuse, an update of what Julius is up to. Don't worry, I'll keep you informed on what's going on with Sam's little boy. :)

My editor is working on the next chapter, so I will get it posted as soon as I can.

In the mean time, I would love to hear what you think. (Reviews are encouragement to write faster. :) )


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry again for the wait, but as I said before my new full time job takes a lot out of me. (And writing when I am half asleep doesn't help much either. ;) ) Lucky for me my wonderful and fabulous editor manages to find time in her busy college schedule to help me tweak the good parts and re-write the chapters I really mess up on. (At least two of the last three.)** Yay DarkFaeIvoryWolf! You're awesome! :)**

That being said, here's the next part ...

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Sam followed the butler through the large house. While Phillip O'Mally may have had meager beginnings, his wife came from old money, and it showed, not only in the elegantly decorated sitting room with it's gilded mirrors and marble fireplace, but in the widow's southern charm. She was seated in a plush chair, dressed for the country club, sipping a cup of tea.

"Thanks for seeing us Mrs. O'Mally." Sam said, taking a seat on the cream colored couch.

"Oh, it's my pleasure." The woman smiled sweetly, setting her drink on the polished coffee table. "Now you said you wanted to know about the Phillip O'Mally foundation?"

"Yes," Dean answered, "what can you tell us about it?"

"The foundation helps families adopt children from around the world. It is named after my late husband; he had such a heart for children."

Her eyes misted a little and Sam felt a pang of sympathy. This couple dedicated their lives to helping others, and is rewarded with pain and death. Life was never fair.

"He was a Good Samaritan." Dean commented.

"Oh yes," Mrs. O'Mally nodded, "Phillip never had a harsh thing to say about anyone."

Sam glanced around the room, noticing a parade of pictures on the mantel. At least a dozen children from just as many countries smiled back at him, surrounded by several smaller group pictures.

"Are these children you helped people adopt?"

"No, those are the one Phillip and I adopted."

"Wow," Dean looked down the row. "That's … a lot."

"Do either of you have children?"

"Yes ma'am, I have a six year old son." Sam replied, nodding his head toward Dean. "He has a twelve year old daughter."

"Then you already know what a blessing they can be." She gazed at the pictures fondly. "And no matter how many you have, you never run out of love for them."

"And you and your husband adopted them all?" Dean asked.

"No," she said sadly. "Only the first four; Phillip … well he died in '82, just three months after we picked up Azi from Nigeria."

She got up and pulled out a photo-album from the bookshelf and flipped through the pages.

"Here we are," Mrs. O'Mally handed the book over to Sam, "this is the day we brought him home."

The picture showed a younger Mrs O'Mally holding a baby, standing next to Phillip who had a two or three year old girl on his hip with a pair of identical, black haired, boys, who looked to be eight or nine standing on either side.

"We adopted Quan and Thao from Vietnam in 1976. Three and a half years later, we were blessed with Jing-Wei." Her voice grew softer as she touched the image of her husband. "We were already discussing where we would go next …"

"We are very sorry for your loss." Sam said quietly.

Mrs. O'Mally smiled sadly, placing the album back on the shelf, gazing at a portrait of Phillip that hung nearby.

"You know, he has bee gone for over twenty years … but I still can see him every night when I close my eyes … hear his laugh …" Mrs. O'Mally paused for a minute, before joining them back at the coffee table, "the ones you love never really leave you … not as long as their memory lives in your heart."

Sam felt a twinge of sadness come over him as he thought of all that this life had taken from him. His parents … Jess … Heather … Madison … how it kept him from seeing Julius …

"Are you alright, Mr. Whitford?"

"I'm fine." He ignored Dean's questioning look and forced a smile. "So, is there anything else you can tells us about the foundation?"

"In the last twenty years we have helped over a thousand families adopt from a dozen different countries." She smiled.

"Impressive." Dean stated.

"Sure is," sounded a voice from the door, "Dad would have been proud."

Sam looked up to see two men, about his age, approach them. One was tall, but still a few inches shorter then Dean. He had short black hair and dark ebony skin, a stark contrast the the pale skin and bleach blond hair of the other. The second one was about two or three inches shorter then the first.

"Oh, Azi, Toru, you came." Mrs. O'Mally smiled, rising to hug her sons.

"Hi Mom," Azi said, returning the embrace; "who are these two?"

"Oh, they are interested in the foundation."

"You two planning to adopt?" Toru asked. "Because we don't discriminate. The procedure is a little longer though, more paperwork."

"I like girls." Dean said quickly, as Mrs. O'Mally sent her son a stern look.

"What have I told you about assuming?" Azi hissed, slapping the back of his brother's head.

Toru rubbed the back of his head, sending Azi a look Sam had probably worn a hundred times. No mystery on who was older.

"We are journalists," Sam explained, "writing an article on people who contributed to the good of mankind."

"Oh, well Dad was definitely one of those people." Azi said proudly.

"So we hear." Dean grinned. "Well, I think we have everything we need for now."

They stood up, shaking the O'Mally's hands and headed out the door. They found Nicki exactly where they left her, lounging on the back seat of the Impala, tapping her foot to whatever she was listening to on her ipod.

"You say you wanna see behind this curtain," She sang, "You wanna know why- hi."

She sat up, pulling out one of her headphones out of one ear, and leaned in the open window.

"That was quick."

"You stayed in the car?" Dean asked, surprised.

"I'm here aren't I?" She answered with an innocent grin. "So, now that you are done lying, can we get some burgers?"

Dean shot her suspicious look and gave the whole Impala a once over before climbing into the driver's seat to check the inside.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have major trust issues?" Nicki said, stretching out once again and popping her headphones back in.

Sam just shook his head, grinning, and slipped into his seat.

Giving himself a break from staring at the computer screen, Sam glanced around the hotel room, noticing how they seemed to have fallen into a rut over the last few days. Nicki sprawled on the bed, looking through an old car magazine while Dean sat at the table, sifting through their case notes. Looking back at the laptop, Sam noticed something that he should have seen before.

"I think we can take two more people off the list."

"Who?" Dean glanced up from the newspaper clippings he had spread out in front of him..

"The Richman brothers." Sam answered. "Their motive was revenge for people taking their land. Even though several of the killings DID take place in the south, at least four of the victims had no ties to the Richman family or estate."

"Five down, ten to go." Nicki said from her perch on the edge of the bed. "So who do we check next?"

"WE will not be checking anything." Dean said, heading out the door.

"Come on," she whined, "I helped before."

"Nicki," Sam said, double checking the other suspects, "hunting is dangerous."

"So is riding a bike off the roof, no one stopped me from doing that."

"You did what?"

Before she could respond, Dean came back in the room with a pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

"Here." He said, dropping the items on the couch.

Nicki's gaze swept the worn out piece of furniture.

"Why do I have to sleep on there?"

"It's five foot long, you're five feet tall," Dean took a seat at the table, "do the math."

"You measured it?"

"You know," Dean looked up, "you could always sleep in the car."

Nicki walked over to the couch, arranging her bed without farther protest before grabbing her bag and heading for the bathroom.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean pulled up to the hotel, snatching the bag of breakfast and newspaper off the seat. A column on the front page showed the police were no closer to finding the night stalker then they were. Four days; that's all the time they had to find Ross Bradford alive … how much time they had to stop the ghost from grabbing someone else. Opening the door quietly, Dean frowned when he noticed was Nicki was no longer on the couch, but a quick glance to the other side of the room showed her in a chair hunched over the edge of Sam's bed. Stepping closer, Dean stifled a laugh when he saw the small bottle in Nicki's hand and the sparkly pink color to three of Sam's fingernails. Moving carefully, Dean crept around the other side of his brother, gently removing his left hand from where it was hidden under the blanket and pacing in on his chest. Nicki gave him a smile of gratitude and finished the last bit on his right hand. Leaving Nicki to her mischief, Dean turned his attention to dividing up their food. A few minutes later, Nicki grabbed one of the breakfast burritos off the table.

"How long does that stuff take to dry?"

"About as long as it takes us to eat." Nicki answered, taking a big bite of her breakfast.

Dean set aside Sam's food and coffee, picking up his burrito. Nicki reached over snagging Sam's cup.

"Ah," Dean put his hand over the lid, holding the drink in place. "Yours is over there."

"Like YOU'VE never had coffee at my age." Nicki grumbled, sipping her hot chocolate.

He just shrugged and went back to his food. Dean may have had coffee from time to time when he was twelve, but he also had a lot more crap to deal with. A small noise came from behind him and Dean turned to see Sam sitting up, with his feet on the floor, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, look who finally woke up." Dean said casually.

"Morning." Sam mumbled making his way over to the table.

He picked up his burrito and started to unwrap it, but froze halfway through.

"What the h^%&." He murmured looking at his hands.

Nicki and Dean ducked their heads, using their food to hide their grins.

"Very funny." Sam said, heading to the bathroom.

After the water had been running for several minutes, Sam came out.

"Nicki, where is the nail polish remover?"

"Um … my house."

Dean snickered while he picked up his coffee, feeling the glare Sam was burning into his back.

"You didn't bring any with you?"

"I have only two coats so far," Nicki stated. "I can still put on three more before it starts to peel."

"Well, what if you want another color?"

She spread her fingers out on the table, showing off a rainbow of color.

"Ten different fingers, ten different polishes."

Fifteen minutes later, Dean watched Sam exited the store with a plastic bag in hand, sending a dark glare their way. Climbing into the car, he ripped open a bag of cotton balls and pulled out a small bottle of pink liquid before scrubbing at his nails.

"How much did it cost?" Dean wondered, as the strong smelling stuff went to work.

"Eight bucks." Sam muttered.

"You seriously paid eight bucks for that stuff?" Dean asked, rolling down his window.

"The cotton alone was two."

"That's what happens when you buy name brand." Nicki commented from the back.

"It was the only brand they had." Sam grumbled.

"You know," Nicki leaned over the back of their seat, "if you wanted it off that bad, you could have just used the rubbing alcohol in your first aid kit."

Dean chuckled when Sam stopped scrubbing and gave his niece a look of pure annoyance.

"And you couldn't tell me this before?"

"Come on, Uncle Sam," She grinned, "where's the fun in that?"

Sam turned his glare over to Dean.

"We are NEVER trading."

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam checked his watch and sighed. Only three and a half days to find the ghost and keep the body count from going up, but they still didn't have a solid connection except that all the victims were white, two girls and four guys. The ages varied, the order varied, and the only city that had been visited twice was Charleston.

"Don't mean to be a drag here," Nicki said from Dean's bed, "but are you sure you have only ten suspects left?"

Oh, there's a comforting thought. Sam glanced up from the laptop.

"What are you talking about?" He wondered.

"I'm just saying," Nicki shrugged, "the murders were never solved, and it could be someone else."

"Like who?" Dean questioned, not looking up from his notes.

"Come on Dad, don't you ever watch CSI? When you have money, you have enemies. I mean, they all were heirs to their plantations right?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, "but if the killer wanted the family farm, why is he still killing now?"

Heirs. They were all heirs. Sam pulled up the obituary of the farmer from the 1934, then the doctor in 1910, and Phillip O'Mally in 1982.

"That's it."He whispered.

"What's it?" Dean asked, sending Sam a puzzled look.

Sam started going back through the names, double checking each victim to confirm his theory.

"Sam?"

Sam stared at the screen, a small smile spreading on his face.

"They were all heirs." He muttered.

Dean got up and circled the table so he could lean over his shoulder.

"You mean I was right?" Nicki asked, joining them at the table.

"Well … no, not quite." Sam admitted. "But I think we found a connection."

"Son of a b%^&$." Dean murmured. "All of them?"

"So far."

"Do you mind sharing with the class here?" Nicki said impatiently.

Sam continued to check, uncovering more proof before answering his niece.

"The victims were firstborns."

* * *

And we have a title. :)

Okay, so I have the next chapter in my editor's inbox and I have already started eight. However, due to a revelation I had yesterday, I'll be doing some changes in the plot, so it might take a while to get it all written. Just be patient, I promise it will be worth the wait. :)

In the meantime, I would love to know what you think so far, so please review. :)


	7. Chapter 7

I feel like I must apologize once again for the delay. Who knew working 40 hours a week could make you so busy?

Anyway, here is the next part and I hope you enjoy it ...

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"So," Nicki picked up one of the printouts, "are we going to add 'Seti the First' to the list?"

Dean took the printout from her hands and replaced it with a car magazine.

"Who the h&*$ is Seti the First?" He asked.

"He killed all the firstborns in Egypt." Nicki explained.

"Actually, 'Seti the First' is one of the pharaohs BELIEVED to have ordered the death of all the newborn Hebrew boys." Sam corrected. "The death of the firstborns was one of the biblical plagues."

Nicki gave Sam a strange look before turning to Dean.

"Is he always an encyclopedia of weird?"

"You have no idea." Dean answered. "Does the whole firstborn thing narrow our list of suspects at all?"

"Firstborns are significant in many kinds of sacrifice," Sam sighed, "Conway could have killed the people for being heirs of plantation owners, and who knows what motive Beckley had. So, no."

"Then … it's another dead end?" Nicki asked, retreating to Dean's bed with a few more magazines.

"It's a start." Dean responded.

Dean double checked that his journal was still with his dad's before turning back to the research, flipping through the information on the 1910 killings. Death number one: Walter Cummings, 26 year old accountant. Death number two: Daniel Franklin, 48 year old fisherman. Death number four … Dean paused, counting the sheets in his hand.

"Dude, where's the stuff on Emily Radcliff?"

"It should be right here." Sam frowned, sifting through the papers. "The information on Dexter Sterling is missing too."

"I don't have it."

"Where is it?"

"How should I know? I left it right here."

"Well it didn't just get up and walk away."

Dean narrowed his eyes in the direction of the bed. Sam's puzzled look lasted only and second before he turned toward Nicki.

"Nicki," His voice serious, "did you take our papers?"

"Why would I do that?"

Dean stepped over to the bed, flipping through each of the magazines Nicki had gathered and finding a total of six printouts hidden between the pages.

"You are NOT hunting." Dean stated firmly, handing the papers to Sam.

"That's not fair," Nicki crossed her arms and slumped against the headboard. "YOU got to hunt when you were a kid."

"I didn't have a choice."

"Looks like I don't either." Nicki spat, shoving off the bed and locking herself in the bathroom.

Dean took his seat and tried to focus in his work …

"_-TOOK A LOUISVILLE SLUGGER TO BOTH HEAD LIGHTS, SLASHED A HOLE IN ALL FOUR TIRES-"_

Dean got up and crossed to the room in two strides.

"Turn the d%#$ music off NOW!" Dean shouted, pounding on the door.

When the volume rose to an almost deafening level, Dean left the room to find the fuse box.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam was just about to pick the lock on the bathroom door when the music suddenly stopped.

"What the h%&^." Nicki growled, throwing open the door to the darkened bathroom.

Bursting through the front door, Dean rushed past Nicki appearing a second later with the radio under his arm. Nicki's eyes grew wide before filing with anger.

"You killed the power to steal my radio?" she seethed.

"Had to, people in China were starting to complain."

"Were you born an a$^, or did you take a class for that?"

"Just naturally talented." Dean sat the radio on the table next to him before returning to his research. "Find anything yet Sam?"

Surprised at the sudden change of subject, Sam looked over the screen.

"Um … not yet."

Dean nodded, focusing on the printouts in his hand, while Nicki continued to glare. Sam thought back to all the fight he had had with his own dad, knowing how Nicki felt. The look of anger and pain on her face was one he had worn several times, but Dean didn't even notice.

"Jerk." Nicki muttered, bolting out the door.

Sam looked back across the table to see Dean calmly shift through their notes.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to go after her?"

"She'll calm down," Dean assured him, "you always did."

"I left for Stanford."

"Not when you were twelve."

"But Dean-"

"Sam," Dean looked at him seriously, "we've got just over three days left to save Ross Bradford and two more people will go missing at anytime. Nicki will be fine."

Still not convinced, Sam headed outside to find his niece.

When Sam found her, she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, against the wall, two doors down. Her blond hair hung loose, inches from the ground and shielding her face. Sam slowly approached, trying to decide the best way to comfort her.

"Nicki?"

She turned her head towards him, shoving back her hair with one hand and scowled.

"What do you want?"

"I just … wanted to see if you were okay."

"Right," she braced her forehead back against her knees, "like you care."

"Of course I care." Sam sat down next to her. "I'm your uncle."

"Dude," Nicki groaned, tilting her head back against the wall, "you don't have to do that, I figured things out a long time ago."

Sam searched her face trying to figure out what she was talking about.

"Look, it's no secret how I was born. But I'm okay with it, so just … don't."

"Don't what?" Sam asked, generally confused.

"I don't need your freaking sympathy, okay?" Nicki spat, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm fine."

She stomped over to a vending machine and started to dig through her pockets. Still completely lost, Sam was about to follow her when Dean stuck his head out the hotel room door.

"Sam, I think I found something."

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean sat back at the computer just before Sam came in.

"Dude, something is SERIOUSLY bothering Nicki."

"Nothing therapy won't cure." Dean muttered. "Check this out."

Sam sighed and leaned over his shoulder.

"What'd you find?"

"This website has a list of a bunch of people killed for practicing magic all the way back to the Salem witch trials."

"Does it give the evidence against them?"

"Right here."

Dean had to only wait a few seconds for his brother to see what he did.

"They were innocent." Sam muttered. "Goodrich and Delven were practicing witchcraft, for sure, but they didn't kill anyone."

"You can tell THAT from the list of charges?" Nicki kicked the door closed on the way to the couch, popping open a can of soda.

"The list says what they had and what they were doing with it." Sam explained. "It looks like they were trying to make it rain, nothing that would require human sacrifice."

Nicki nodded and pulled a magazine out of the stack next to her. Dean got halfway out of his chair, trying to see the cover. Nothing bad, just guns.

"Hey," Sam lightly smacked his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the laptop, "did Edward Beckly make the list?"

Dean went back to the main page and did a quick search.

"Nope."

"Worth a shot." Sam shrugged, moving to his seat across the table.

Dean pulled up everything they found on Edward Beckly, not that it was much. Born in 1840, he was the third out of five siblings, having two younger brothers, Nathan and Lewis, and an older sister, Margret. He had helped his dad and Thomas run the family plantation since he was a teenager, mostly supervising the field hands. The only other thing they knew was a week after the last murder, Edward body was found in the same spot as brother's had been in almost a month before. An investigation showed that a group of men had beaten him to death. They claimed he was insane, that he had killed the others and would kill again. Of these six men, four were hung for the murder. Thomas' brother-in-law, George Marriott, and Nathan Beckley, were sent to an asylum to spare their families from loosing another child. Dean looked at a photo of the Beckley family, taken in the late 1850's. They all seemed so normal, completely unaware of the devastation that was about to rip them apart.

What would bring a guy to kill his own brother? He could understand Nathan killing Edward to avenge Thomas, he didn't agree with it, but he could understand it. If someone killed Sam they would only live long enough to realize their mistake. But what if the killer was family? If he had two brothers, could he kill one to avenge the other? He glanced over at Sam and his feelings were clear. As far as Dean was concerned, family was sacred. Nothing in creation could ever make him kill his brother. Nothing.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam glanced down from the web page to the clock in the corner of the screen, wondering when Dean was going to get back with their lunch.

"How tech savy is Dad?"

Glancing over the laptop, Sam gave his niece a puzzled look. Nicki was lounging on the couch admiring a year old gun magazine, twirling her finger around a lock of her hair.

"I mean, he seems okay with the computer, but the most advanced feature on his phone is picture mail and he doesn't own a single CD."

Sam shrugged and returned his attention to the computer.

"Dean's pretty set in his ways."

"I bet I could make things change."

Sam bit back a laugh. She would have more luck teaching vegetarians how to hunt rabbits.

"You think I can't?"

"Not unless you have brainwashing capabilities."

"I bet you fifty bucks I can get all his cassettes replaced with CDs."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, just as Dean came in with a greasy paper bag tucked under his arm.

"Find anything else?"

"No secret lives so far." Sam answered, catching the burger Dean tossed his way.

"You won't find a whole lot of 'secret lives' on the internet." Nicki said unwrapping her hamburger. "You REALLY want to know about someone, read their diaries."

"Diaries?" Dean questioned, sitting down at the table.

"That's how I found out about you." She smirked.

Before they could respond, someone pounded on the door. Pulling out his colt, Dean made his way to the peep hole while Sam got his own gun ready.

"What the-" Dean mumbled.

After they put their weapons away, Dean opened the door and Caroline burst in.

"Of all the STUPID stunts!" She vented. "Don't you care about Nicki's well being at all?"

Crap, Sam thought, what had she found out?

"Does HE care?" Nicki jumped to her feet. "You dumped me with a perfect stranger for three days and you want to know if HE cares?"

Dean opened his mouth, but Caroline was now focused on her daughter.

"He is NOT a perfect stranger-"

"To you maybe." Nicki scoffed.

"He's your FATHER!"

"Doesn't mean he's not a STRANGER!"

"HEY!" Dean shouted, cutting them both off.

The silence lasted only a second before Caroline's wrath turned his way once again.

"Don't you start with me you … delinquent! I can't believe you did this!"

"Did what?" Dean demanded.

"Like you don't know!"

"He probably doesn't." Nicki snapped.

After a quick glare at her daughter, Caroline faced Dean, anger burning her blue eyes.

"Do you even realize what it's like to not know where your daughter is? Not knowing if she is okay. To wonder who she is with and if she is safe."

Even though Dean's face was expressionless, Sam could see his shoulders tense with each of Caroline's questions.

"I expect this sort of thing from Gavin," She continued, "but I can't believe you did this? When I got the call from Mrs. Tate-"

"What the-" Nicki groaned. "THAT'S what this is all about?!"

Caroline sent a steady gaze at her daughter,

"I happen to take playing hooky VERY seriously."

"I know, you told me that last time …" Nicki flopped down on the couch, muttering, "and every time before that."

While Nicki now seemed bored with the conversation, Dean's face was a blend of shock and anger.

"Hooky?" He stared at Caroline. "You're yelling at me because she played HOOKY?"

"YOU were supposed to take her!"

"I think you forgot to mention that when you dropped her off at FIVE IN THE MORNING."

"I thought it was obvious, it's MONDAY." Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Nicki has enough trouble following the rules as is. She does NOT need you encouraging her to break more of them."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she is doing just fine on her own without any encouragement."

"Dean, if she doesn't get her act together, she is going to get suspended."

"They are not going to suspend me for skipping, Mom." Nicki commented, flipping through a magazine. "Getting kicked out of school for not going to school is like getting lock up for loitering."

Caroline scowled; her eyes sweeping the room until they came to rest on Nicki's backpack in the corner. Walking over she picked it up and looked inside.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"Checking to make sure you have all your stuff."

Nicki's eyes grew wide and she slowly got off the couch, her magazine falling to the floor.

"No Mom, please." She pleaded. "I'll go to school tomorrow, I promise. Just … not there."

Sam frowned as his gaze moved back and forth between the two before turning to his brother. Dean's face was calm, but Sam could see the confusion and concern in his eyes. Where was Caroline going to send Nicki that would make her react like this?

"I told you before, if you cannot behave with the person of your choice, then you'll have to go to the place of my choosing."

"But Mrs. Douglas HATES me." Nicki whined. "All she cares about are those stupid, evil, poodles."

"Mrs. Douglas doesn't hate you." Caroline stated. "And if you didn't kick the dogs, they wouldn't growl at you."

"It they didn't attack me I wouldn't have had to kick them."

Caroline didn't seem moved, instead grabbing Nicki's coat from the bed.

"Please Mom," she begged. "Please let me stay with Dad."

"Nicki," Caroline's voice was hard, "after today, you'll be lucky if I even let you see him again."

* * *

What do you think about that?

I'll get chapter 8 up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please let me know how I am doing. Reviews are encouragement to write more. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the wait. I hope it was worth it. Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Sam saw his brother's jaw clench at Caroline's threat.

"Let me get this straight." Dean started. "You dropped her in MY life, without warning, got mad that I didn't know HER schedule, and now you're saying I can't even SEE her?"

"If you can't even remember what day of the week it is, you CLEARLY can't handle a kid."

"You can't just take her."

"I'm her mother; I can do what I want."

"Let me guess," he said sarcastically, "next you're going to tell me that if I don't give her up, you'll kill Sam."

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Oh, I'M being ridiculous?"

"Yes," Caroline crossed her arms. "You drop in and out of people's lives as you please, not a care in the world. Until you can learn some responsibility, you are not fit to watch Nicki."

Sam watched Dean's glare darken with each word, his own anger levels rising at Caroline's arrogance.

"Dean is the most responsible guy I know." Sam stated, coming to his brother's defense. "And he hasn't had to deal with school since I graduated, over five YEARS ago."

"The schedule hasn't changed much."

"But ours has." Sam continued, "yeah, we forgot, but it won't happen again. Just … give us another chance."

Caroline studied his face, as if gauging how trustworthy he was, and turned to Dean.

"You'll make sure she does all her homework, gets to school on time, and has money for lunch?"

"You got it."

For a minute she stayed quiet, looking at each of them in turn, before thrusting Nicki's backpack into Dean's arms.

"Fine," she caved, "but at least give me your number so I can reach you if I have too."

Sam scribbled their cell numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to Caroline, who was muttering something about avoiding the whole problem if they had bothered to do that in the first place. She gave her daughter a stern glance.

"Be. Good."

Nicki nodded, but she was staring at Dean with a look of confusion. Caroline didn't seem to notice while she checked her watch.

"I have one show tonight, and another tomorrow afternoon. Try to keep her out of trouble until then."

Without waiting for a response, Caroline hurried out the door.

"Why did you do that?"

Sam glanced over to her niece who hadn't moved.

"What?" Dean asked. "You mean you WANTED to leave."

"H^&* no," Nicki answered, "but I thought …"

She looked at the floor, taking her backpack from Dean and heading to the bed.

"What?" Dean prodded.

"Nothing," she said, focusing on pulling out her homework. "Just forget it."

"You thought WE wanted you to leave." Sam stated.

"Well … yeah." Nicki set aside her history book. "I mean, you didn't want me around from the start, then there was all that crap I pulled … reading your journal … painting your nails … turning up the radio … your shampoo …"

"Our shampoo?" Dean demanded.

"Um … never mind." Nicki said quickly, opening textbook.

Dean glanced over at Sam.

"Dude, you're showering first."

After sending him a brief glare, Sam sat on his bed facing his niece.

"Nicki, it's not that we don't want you around. It's just-"

"She was out of line." Dean cut in, sitting back at the table. "Now how about we get back to work?"

Sam headed back for the laptop, Nicki at his heels.

"Hey." Dean pointed to the backpack. "Do your own work."

Sam heard her mumbling something about dictators as she sat back on the bed and flipped open her history book, but chose to ignore it. They still had eight suspects and no new leads. They were running out of time.

Sam wiped the steam off the mirror and reached for his clothes. After the itching powder incident, he had started bringing his clothes into the bathroom with him when he showered. Now that he found honey in the shampoo bottle, he wondered if that was even enough. Like father, like daughter. At least the lobby had a small store for things like that. Pulling his shirt over his head and running a hand through his damp hair, Sam went back into the main room. Nicki was alone, laying sideways on Dean's bed typing away on the laptop.

"Nicki?" He called, noticing the headphones. "Where's Dean?"

Nicki glanced up and returned her focus to the computer, before unplugging her headphones.

"_Right now, he's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp _

_and she's probably getting frisky_

_Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink _

_cause she can't shoot whiskey_

_Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick_

_Showing her how to shoot a combo-"_

She plugged her headphones back in with a grin and returned to typing.

"Cute." Sam smirked, "what are you doing on my computer?"

"Well-"

She was cut off by the persistent ringing of Sam's cell phone.

"Hang on," he instructed, taking back his computer on his way to the nightstand. "Hello … Oh, hey Sarah. What's going on? … He did WHAT? …"

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean had just stepped out of the bar, slipping a few phone numbers into his pocket, when he caught sight of someone hovering around the Impala and quickened his pace when the man ran his hand across the hood.

"Hey, dude, get the h&%* away from my car."

"This is your car?" The man questioned.

"Uh … yeah."

He shoved his shaggy blond hair back; blue eyes scanned Dean's face.

"Winchester?"

Dean barely had a chance to answer before a fist was flying toward his face. Easily deflecting drunken the blow, Dean had him pinned in seconds.

"I'm gonna kill you, you b#s^a$d!" The man growled. "You'll pay for what you did to my sister!"

His sister? Ah h*%& …

"You always were an idiot, Gavin."

Dean got up quickly, stepping back towards his car, while Gavin stumbled to his feet with all the grace of a newborn giraffe.

"Running away?" Gavin glared. "Afraid to fight me?"

"Dude, I'd KILL you."

"Not if you fought all of us."

Dean cast an amused glance around the empty parking lot.

"Okay …" Dean muttered, climbing into his car and ignoring whatever else Gavin was yelling.

He tried to pull the door closed, but Gavin grab it before he could.

"You really want to lose your hand, don't you?"

"We had to move because of you." Gavin continued. "My sister had to be home-schooled."

"Go tell your therapist about it."

As soon as he let go to throw another punch, Dean closed the door and Gavin's fist slammed into the side of the car. He cried out in pain, clutching his injured hand to his chest, staggering back a few steps and giving Dean room to pull out.

"Get back here, Winchester!" Gavin screamed, running after him. "I'm not finished with you yet."

"Yes you are." Dean muttered, accelerating to his normal speed.

He didn't have time to deal with Caroline's drunken brother, not with a homicidal ghost on the loose.

Dean was still grinning at the memory of Gavin chasing him down the street when he got to the hotel. Nicki was stretched out on the bed with a magazine, listening to her ipod, while Sam was in the corner talking quietly on his cell phone. She rolled over when he shut the door and pulled off her headphones.

"Hey Dad."

"Your uncle is a idiot." He smirked,

"Dean," Sam glared, "we need to talk."

"I wasn't talking about you."

"Julius was almost kicked out of the school play."

Dean frowned, pulling off his coat. Julius was practically born a boy scout, how the h%&# did HE get in THAT much trouble.

"What happened?"

"He was helping the lollipop guild learn their song, and the doorman came up and started messing with them."

Sam's glare darkened as Dean fought to hold in his laughter.

"So, let me get this straight," he chuckled, "the scarecrow was teaching the munchkins their song and OZ's doorman was being a jerk? We better call the wizard."

"Dean, this is serious."

"I agree," he said, forcing a straight face, "do you think the witch put him up to it?"

Sam just continued his look of death while Dean sat down and the table.

"By the way, how is any of this my fault?"

"Because the rest of us are trying to teach Julius to settle problems with words … NOT an uppercut." Sam vented. "He's lucky he wasn't suspended."

"Oh PLEASE." Nicki scoffed. "It's his first offense and the other kid started it, most he'll get is detention."

"You would know." Dean grinned.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and sat down at the laptop. A second later his anger was replaced with confusion.

"Nicki, what were you doing?"

"Where?" Dean asked, sending his daughter a questioning glance.

"Oh yeah, I found a break in your case." She said casually.

"You did what?" Dean circled the table to see the screen. "Son of a b%&$#."

Nicki tossed aside her magazine, giving them a triumphant smile.

"How's THAT for a non-hunter?"

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"This is TOTALLY unfair!" Nicki grumbled, kicking the back of their seat.

Sam knew how she felt, his dad often let him help with the research, but didn't let him on an actual hunt until he was much older. Not that he ever really wanted to hunt, but he hated being left out all the time.

"I told you before, you're NOT hunting."

"But it's MY lead."

"And we appreciate you finding it," Sam said, trying to ease a bit of the growing tension, "but it's best if we take it from here."

"Right, because the history museum is SO dangerous."

"Nicki," Dean stated firmly, "drop it."

With one last kick, she fell silent. Glancing back he saw her slumped in the seat, headphones in, texting away on her phone. She did good work, but Dean was right. She was not a hunter and if was safer if she just stayed out of the way.

When they found the museum Dean groaned.

"Did I mention the place was popular?" Nicki muttered from the back seat.

Flashing a glare at the review mirror, Dean drove around the packed parking lot, but there wasn't a space in sight. After almost ten minutes, Sam finally spotted a spot about as far from the door as you could get.

"Dean."

"I see it."

Stepping out of the car, Sam waited while Dean left his final instructions.

"Stay here." He said, leaning in the window. "And stay out of my stuff."

"Scouts honor." Nicki answered, mimicking the Boy Scout salute.

Nodding, Dean joined Sam and they started the long walk to the museum.

"Okay, what do we know about this place?"

"Well," Sam answered, shoving his hands in his pockets, "the exhibit was started in New York in 1921 and spends about five months in each location. Its route has taken it to all the places the ghost hit at the time of the murders."

"So," Dean summarized, "they either have REALLY bad luck or-"

"Or they are carrying around an angry spirit."

"Supernatural treasure hunt." Dean said with a grim smile. "How many things are in the collection?"

"Over a thousand."

"Great."

Sam silently agreed, holding the door for his brother, hoping this time they could finally catch a break.

While waiting in the long line to get into the place, Sam thought back to how mad Nicki was that she couldn't go in with them. But at least she seemed to be listening now … wait … something about the way she said it … his frown deepened.

"What?" Dean gave him a questioning look.

"It's just … does Nicki seem like a scout to you?"

Dean thought about it and turned toward the door. It took almost five minutes to make it back to the car.

"D*%& it." Dean seethed when they found the car empty.

"Calm down." Sam said, glancing around. "It's only been fifteen minutes, how far could she have-"

He stopped when he noticed that Nicki wasn't the only thing missing from the car.

"Ah H$#% no!" Dean vented, looking through the window. "I'm gonna kill her!"

Staring at the hole where the radio once sat, one phrase ran through Sam's head ... like father, like daughter.

* * *

So, what do you think of Nicki's revenge?

My editor will be done with this term of college soon, so hopefully the next one will be up LOT faster.

In the mean time, please let me know what you think. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Again, I'm REALLY sorry this took so long. But better late then never, right? *nervous grin* Yeah ...

Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait ...

**

* * *

Chapter 9**

While he watched Dean search the glove-compartment and around the front seat, checking to see if anything else was missing, Sam couldn't help but smile. His brother, the self proclaimed king of pranks, just got outdone by a twelve year old girl.

"D^$& it!" Dean climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "She took my tapes."

He took her music, she took his. Payback is a b^$&%, Sam thought to himself.

"This is nothing to smirk at," Dean stated, apparently noticing his amusement, "she committed grand larceny."

"Petty larceny." Sam corrected. "There is no way your collection was worth more than a thousand dollars."

"A crime is a crime, Sam."

"This from a man who could hot-wire cars at thirteen."

Dean shot him a dark glare. His brother could take a joke as well as the next guy, but there were a few things he considered sacred, the Impala and his music were right near the top of that list.

"Seriously," Sam reasoned, "what could she even do to your stuff in fifteen minutes?"

The expression on Dean's face slowly turned to horror, giving Sam a pretty good idea what he was thinking.

"Dude," Sam rolled his eyes, "she is NOT going to blow up your radio."

"Your sure about that?"

Leaving Dean to his imagination, Sam scanned the area for anyone who may have seen where Nicki went. He spotted a deli across the street where a man was busy washing windows, and was pretty sure he had seen the same guy sweeping when they headed over to the museum.

"Excuse me," Sam called, crossing the street, "have you seen a kid walking around here?"

The gray haired man looked up, studying him through silver framed glasses.

"What was that?"

"Have you seen a kid walking around here?" Sam repeated. "About five feet tall, long blond hair, green eyes-"

"Horns, pointed tail," Dean chimed it, "might have been carrying a shoebox and a pitchfork."

"What if I did?" The man asked, his brown eyes suspicious. "What's she to you two?"

"She's his daughter." Sam explained.

The man lowered his glasses, giving Dean a once over.

"YOU'RE deadbeat Dean from the lake."

"Son of a-" Dean vented. "Has she told EVERYONE that story?"

The man didn't seem to be put off by the outburst, instead sticking out his hand with a smile.

"Name's McGuire, I keep an eye on Nicki from time to time when her uncles are working."

"I'm Sam, and … well, you already know my brother."

"Course I do." McGuire nodded. "Glad to see you finally came around, Nicki could sure use a father."

"Yeah, she could use one right now." Dean growled. "Did you see where she went?"

"She was headed that way-"

He pointed a bony finger down the street. Turning quickly, Dean started that direction before McGuire could finish.

"-probably to the pawn shop."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Dean turned his head slowly toward the old man.

"Pawn shop?"

"Yup, goes there a lot with her uncle, Gavin." He shook his head. "One of these days those skills he taught her are going to get that girl in a world of trouble."

Following McGuire's directions, it didn't take long to find the pawn shop … and Nicki coming out with a box under her arm. A few steps from the door she spotted them, did an about-face, and quickly headed off in the other direction. It took Dean about ten seconds to catch up with her and snatch the box from under her arm. While Dean stormed back toward the Impala, Nicki casually leaned against the wall of the pawn shop.

"He'll be back." She said confidently.

Sam watched Dean reach the end of the block and freeze. Turning sharply, Dean went straight into the pawn shop.

"What did you do?"

"Let's just say, be glad you didn't take that bet."

Confusion turned to clarity as Sam stared at her in shock.

"You replaced his tapes with CDs?"

Nicki just ginned. Soon after, Dean burst out of the shop and took off down the street, watched by an overweight man at the door.

"In less then two minutes?" Nicki exclaimed. "I thought you could barter better than that, Carl."

"Nicki." Carl growled. "Warn me the next time you steal from Rambo."

"He's not THAT bad ... more like John McClain."

"I don't care who he is, leave me out of it."

Carl disappeared back into his store and Nicki pushed off the wall with a sigh. She had barely taken a step when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"In trouble again, Nicki?"

Quickly running her fingers through her hair a few times, she turned around to smile at the brown eyed, spiky haired, teen.

"Nothing I can't handle, Zack."

"I bet," he grinned. "Missed you at school today."

"I don't go to your school."

"Didn't stop me from missing you."

Sam looked from the shy smile on his niece's face to the look in Zack's eyes. They were flirting? Nicki is barely old enough to babysit and they were FLIRTING?

"You really need to hurry up and graduate," Zack continued. "High school won't be any fun until you do."

High school? How old was this kid?

"Sorry, but unless my IQ goes up over the summer, you're gonna have to wait two more years."

"Well, what if I don't want to wait?"

Recognizing the predatory gleam in Zack's eye, Sam decided enough was enough. Stepping between them, he towered over the kid.

"You might want to get out of here before her dad comes back."

"Uncle Sam," she hissed, tugging on his arm, "its fine."

"Her dad?" Zack blinked in confusion, before looking around to Nicki. "I thought you didn't have a dad."

"Biologically everyone has a dad, mine just happened to come into town this weekend." She pushed cut in between them, sending Sam a dark glare. "And my Uncle Sam was just going to join him."

Sam didn't move, barely taking his eyes off the kid long enough to see his niece's expression. He knew all about guys like this and there was no way in h^%& he was leaving the little creep alone with Dean's daughter. Zack however, didn't seem phased by Sam's sudden appearance, instead giving Nicki a smile of cool confidence.

"Nicki, I don't have any problem meeting your Dad."

Her eyes grew wide as she shook her head.

"No Zack, you REALLY don't want to do that. He … uh … he's in a bad mood today."

"Nicki," he lifted his hand to caress the side of her face, "pretty girls are always worth it."

She blushed and looked at the ground, causing Sam to roll his eyes. Was she really buying this crap?

"Besides," Zack added, his grin widening slightly, "I've never met a dad I couldn't win over. Don't worry about it. This will be easy."

Sam almost smiled at the thought. This kid was gonna get slaughtered.

**~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean had almost finished reinstalling the radio was he heard the others get back to the car. Took them long enough, he thought bitterly.

"Hey Dean." Sam called.

"What?" Dean grunted, reattaching the last of the wires.

"This guy wants to date Nicki."

Dean looked over his shoulder at the kid standing next to Sam, a sweet expression trying to mask a cocky grin.

"No."

Turning back to the radio, he wrestled in back into place.

"Sir, I understand how you must feel, believe me …" The punk started.

Was he seriously still trying to win him over? Dean turned in his seat to face the kid, wondering what crap the teenager would try with him.

"… I just want you to know I have nothing but respect for your daughter …"

Uh-huh, Dean thought to himself.

"… and I know there is a two year age difference, but I'm willing to overlook that …"

How chivalrous of you.

" … I just hope that, as you get to know me, you will see that I am a nice guy."

Dean sighed, already knowing everything about the kid he needed. Giving Sam a look, he motioned the boy forward while Sam took Nicki out of earshot.

"I can't believe you DID THAT!" Nicki kicked the back of his seat. "Do you know how long it's taken for Zack Hawkins to notice ME?"

Probably about when you started looking like you were old enough to drive. Why did HIS daughter have to be the prettiest, most developed, girl in her school?

"What did you even say to him?"

Dean just smiled at the memory while Sam gave him a questioning look.

"You didn't show him your gun did you?" Nicki asked, leaning slightly over the seat. "Pull a knife? Kill him and bury him without Uncle Sam and I noticing?"

"He's alive," Dean insisted, turning towards the hotel, "you saw him run away."

"You threatened him." Nicki accused, digging around in her backpack.

"Not like the moron recognized it half the time." Dean smirked. "I mentioned Winchester, Remington, Smith and Weston … kid thought I was talking about relatives."

Sam laughed while Nicki didn't seem amused.

"So what DID you say to him?" Nicki asked, writing in a notebook.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Fine." She caved. "Don't tell me."

That was easy, Dean thought, almost enjoying the ride to drop Nicki off. After she was safely back at the hotel, and their things were safely locked in the trunk, he and Sam could head back to the museum and get some answers. A flurry of papers brought his attention back to the back seat.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Nothing."

Dean glared at the innocent grin in the review mirror, but right before he could open his mouth flashing blue and red lights caught his attention.

"Ah d^%& it." He growled, pulling over to the side of the road.

They couldn't afford to be wanted by the law this early in the hunt, so it was best to just take whatever he ticket he had no intention of paying.

"Were you speeding?" Sam asked, watching the cop through the review mirror.

"No, I wasn't speeding." Dean hissed, grabbing the registration that matched his license.

Rolling down his window, he slipped on the clam mask he used while dealing with these types of situations.

"License and registration."

"What seems to be the problem officer?"

"Well, we have had a few calls about this car and … I think I see why."

The cop sent a disapproving look into the back seat and shook his head.

"Nicki Trafford, I should have known it was you."

"Hey Dan, how's the wife." Nicki grinned.

Dean looked over his shoulder, getting a pretty good idea of why he got pulled over. A dozen or more hand drawn signs ranging from 'we kill zombies' and 'ghost hunters on board to 'there are guns in this car' and 'help, I'm being kidnapped' covered the back seat. In the middle of it all, Nicki just smiled sweetly, as if unaware of the chaos she could have initiated. Officer Dan turned back to Dean.

"Knowing Nicki's history, I'll let the signs go this time, but you might want to keep an eye on her in the future."

"Yes sir." Dean agreed, trying to hide his relief.

The cop nodded and glanced back into the back seat, frowning.

"Young lady, are you buckled?"

A loud click echoed through the Impala.

"Yup."

With a sigh, Officer Dan pulled out his ticket book. Dean slowly turned to glare at his daughter who held up one more sign.

"_Payback is a b&%^$."_

"You keep an eye on the girl, alright?" He said, handing Dean his ticket. "She can be a real handful."

"Yes sir." Dean responded, glaring back at his daughter through the mirror.

"Drive safe now." Officer Dan smiled, turning back to his car.

"Thank you sir."

Dean rolled up his window and started the car, digging in his box for his Metallica tape.

"I swear," he warned, popping in his music, "one more stunt-"

"_-Girls they wanna have fu-un, oh girls they just wanna have fun-"_

Stopping the tape, Dean stared at the radio like it had just turned into a snake. He looked over at Sam who was suppressing a laugh.

"I swear, man," he held up his hands, "it wasn't me."

Taking out the tape he checked over it, but it was blank. Pulling the cassette out of the Black Sabbath case, he decided to test another.

"_-You may hate me but it ain't no lie, baby bye bye by-"_

"Try Led Zepplin" Nicki called from the back, "I dare you."

This went WAY beyond payback. Dean turned in his seat giving his daughter a dark look.

"Where are my tapes?"

"That depends." Nicki replied, crossing her arms. "Will you let me hunt?"

"No."

"Fine." She shrugged. "Then AC/DC goes in the blender."

* * *

When will they learn, Nicki giving in is never a good sign.

Let me know what you think and I try to post the next one soon.

NOTE: This is an edited story and I won't do it without my editor (However, I relay request for updates to her, so if a lot of people want the next chapter it MIGHT help it go up sooner.)


	10. Chapter 10

First and foremost ...

**(: Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. :)**

Second, sorry for the wait. (This story was delayed due to lack of internet access on my editor's side.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it ...

**

* * *

Chapter 10**

Sam stepped out of the Impala, and looked up at the museum.

"Come on," Nicki urged, leading the way, "we're burning daylight."

While she headed for the main entrance, Sam grabbed his brother by the arm.

"I can't BELIEVE you agreed to let her hunt." He hissed.

Dean shrugged off his hand with an amused glace.

"You REALLY think I would let her hunt?"

"So the oath you took in the car was just for show?"

"No, meant every word." Dean grinned. "I said she could do everything we were allowed to do at her age."

Sam thought back to their childhood and realized exactly what Dean had agreed to.

"So that means all she can do is research-"

"And wait in the car." Dean patted him on the back. "Not to worry, Sammy. I've got this covered."

Sam had a bad feeling his brother's reasoning was going to come back to bite him on the a$%.

Wandering through the rows of uniforms and bayonets, Sam examined each name he passed. Most of the items were donated anonymously or through large collections, so there was no way to know which of them were significant and which were not, but there was always the chance they could get lucky.

"Anything?" Dean asked from a display of military issued knives.

"Not yet."

"I think I found something." Nicki offered, flipping though a worn out book.

Sam took a closer look at the messy script and saw that it was a journal, an old one by the look of it.

"Where did you get that?" Dean questioned, taking the book from his daughter.

"A display back there." Nicki gestured to the other room. "But-"

"A display?!" Sam whispered disbelievingly.

"What were you thinking?" Dean demanded.

Nicki rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated heavy sigh.

"Like you two never stole before."

"Not from an open museum!" Sam stated. "There are security guards and cameras-"

"And if I had been seen we would have been stopped by now." Nicki interrupted. "I just thought it was worth the risk."

"Yeah?" Dean asked bitterly. "And what gave you that idea?"

She held the book out to her dad.

"It was written by Lewis Beckly."

Dean took the journal and flipped it open.

"Son of a b^%$&." He muttered.

"It starts January 1862 murders and ends just days before his death in 1913." Nicki added. "It even mentions the 1910 murders, and I'd bet money the deaths in 1886 are in there too."

Sam had to admit, she was good at research. This journal could be the key to everything, maybe even the thing that the spirit was piggybacking on. Pulling out his EMF reader he did a quick scan, but the hand-held machine remained silent.

"What is that thing anyway?" Nicki questioned.

"An EMF reader." Sam explained.

"And what's it tell you, Dr. Spengler?"

Sam shot her a look, one he was sure his brother was matching.

"Tall and geeky; aka Egon Spengler." Nicki explained, turning back towards another section of the exhibit. "Dad is Venkman, he's the one the girls like."

"Can't argue with that." Dean agreed, turning his attention back to the book.

His face took on a serious expression and he pointed to a passage in the book.

"Check this out, it's from the night before Thomas' body was found."

Sam glanced over his shoulder and read the scrawling letters.

"_March 28th, 1862_

_Edward acts peculiar. I fear the worst has befallen my dear brothers. Thomas! What have I done?" _

Sam frowned at the lament the youngest Beckly was showing. Nothing in their research suggested the fifteen year old had anything to do with the killings. He scanned down to the next passage.

"_March 29th, 1862_

_My brother is dead not by my hand, but yet it was my deeds that lay him low. Why did I tell Edward of Thomas' secret? I have lead the Hounds to our family. If this is my judgment which the Lord sees fit to lie upon my head, I pray I am next and that my death is swift. That I may join my dear brother in Heaven, and no longer hear my mother's sorrow."_

They had their answer. Thomas had a secret and paid for it with his life, something that all the victims had in common. Sam sent Dean a sideways glance. What would bring a guy to kill his brother? As far as he was concerned, Sam would die a thousand deaths before he struck Dean down … maybe not even then. But Edward was a different matter, he was a killer and he was going to burn.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean skimmed over the pages leading up to and following Thomas Beckly's murder.

"_March 19th, 1862_

_What am I to do? Mine own brother is a traitor. To speak out, would surely mean his death. But to remain silent could well d&^% my soul. At these times I would seek out Thomas but alas he is the one who has called down h*#$ upon our family. I will pray on this matter, may the Lord guide my hand in what is right._

_March 21st, 1862_

_I have spoken to Edward; he was as distraught as I. He told me to maintain my silence that he may handle this discretely. Pray Thomas can be saved. _

_March 22nd, 1862_

_Thomas is gone. Edward is somber. What has happened?_

_March 24th, 1862_

_No sign of Thomas for days. Edward grows more sullen with each passing hour. He lashed Moses and John again; I could hear their screams from the main house. He beat the feet of a dozen more slaves. Is it anger at Thomas or that Joshua and Ester escaped last night with all four of their children? How does a whole family of Negros disappear? Part of me wonders if they are with Thomas, but my heart knows that to be untrue. I know not what has bewitched our slaves, but I fear only evil could have befallen my brother." _

"What?"

Dean looked up at his daughter who was staring at him expectantly.

"What what?"

"I thought I heard you talking about something."

"Kid, this is a museum." Dean motioned to the people milling around them. "A lot of people are talking about something."

She shrugged and walked back over to a display of jewelry. Shaking his head, Dean looked back down at the journal.

"_March 25th, 186-"_

His head snapped up looking over at Nicki. If she managed to get a journal out of a locked case in the middle of a museum without being seen, how quickly could she make that gold pocket-watch or emerald ring disappear?

"Nicki!" He snapped, shoving the book into Sam's hands.

"What?" She blinked innocently.

Taking her by the shoulder, he nudged her toward his brother.

"Go stand by Sam and stay away from anything shiny."

Ignoring her eye roll, Dean caught sight of a silver letter opener. That would come in handy …

"_Traitor."_

Dean glanced over at Sam, but he was busy trying to get Nicki away from a 'not shiny' cannon. A chill ran down his spine and he knew what he heard … the whisper of a killer.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Managing to keep Nicki on the right side of the divider, Sam noticed his brother looking around with a dark expression on his face.

"Hey," he called, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean replied, without making eye contact. "Let's get out of here."

Grabbing a hold of Nicki on the way out, Dean led the way back to the car while Sam trailed behind. Something had spooked his brother, that much was obvious, but he was going to have to wait until later to find out what. In the mean time, he would look over the journal; find out what secret got Thomas killed. Pulling the book out of his pocket, he turned to the days after Thomas' death.

"_March 30, 1862_

_Anna is gone, just like Thomas. I know not if Thomas shared his secret with his wife, but it seems I am to lose a sister as well. Surely I am being punished for my cowardice. For holding my tongue, when I learned of Edward crimes. But stand by and watch my mother mourn a second son? One who will hang in the hangman's noose? I fear my poor mother could not bear the strain, what am I to do?"_

"_April 2nd, 1862_

_First Thomas, then Anna, and now Robert. Could Robert be a part of this too? Did he aide Thomas in his treachery? How many more? Who else will die because I spoke out? I pray this will all end soon. The deaths that I caused are weighting heavy on my soul, Lord Please tell me what to do!_

_April 4th, 1862_

_Fredrick has vanished and I fear for him. I fear for all of them. Edward's madness grows each day. What evil have I brought down on us? Lord, let me be next that I may die for the suffering I have caused._

_April 6th, 1862_

_Anna was found this morning. Her sweet face was blacked from the beatings she endured and her body was broken. Edward, my brother, what have you become? What demon now lives inside my brother's heart?"_

Sam remembered the autopsy photos of the victims and knew what kind of horror Lewis would have witnessed, but it would have been so much worse knowing that your own brother was behind the attacks.

"Sam?"

He glanced over at his brother who was scribbling on a post-it note.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to do something for me."

Taking the yellow square, Sam skimmed over the instructions, his jaw dropping in surprise.

"Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah … sure."

Sam glanced over his shoulder at his niece, quietly reading a tome in the back seat. This was going to be interesting ...

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean skimmed through the journal while Sam sat across from him and sifted through the information they had on the victims. His brother was having no luck finding farther connections between the victims, and Lewis' recordings weren't helping much either. No mention of Thomas' secret through October of 1884.

"Son of a b*^$#!" Nicki exclaimed.

Smirking to himself, Dean turned the page in the journal. Looks like Nicki found the surprise.

"You put on PARENTAL CONTROLS!" She shouted, slamming the laptop down on the table. "You guys are freaking JERKS!"

"Hey, I said you could do as much as we could when we were kids." Dean grinned. "Internet was limited back then."

"Uh-huh, did it also kick you off after an HOUR?"

Dean's smile widened as he held up one of Nicki's signs.

"Payback is a b^&%$."

She scowled and crumpled the paper and chucked it at Sam's head.

"What did I do?"

"Please." She rolled her eyes. "You expect me to believe DAD set that up? The most advanced technology he can operate is run by quarters."

"The best stuff always is." Dean grin, thinking back to the last time he experienced magic fingers.

Ignoring him, Nicki grabbed the computer and retreated to his bed, sending dark glares their way. Sam gave him an I-told-you-so look and returned to his work. Dean however just shrugged it off. After all, she already had his music and she wasn't gonna touch his car, what else could she do?

Dean woke up to a tickling sensation, but when he reached up to scratch it he got a face full of shaving cream and the sound of his daughter's laughter filled the room. She didn't.

"Okay," Sam said irritably, "I now have about five minutes to live. Would you give me the password already?"

"Classic!" Nicki chuckled. "This is TOTALLY going on my wall!"

"Hilarious, now unlock my computer."

Dean slowly sat up, wiping the cream out of his eyes. Sam gave him an apologetic look and glanced over at his laptop, which currently had a pink panda dancing across the screen. Nicki was on his bed aiming a camera in his direction.

"Nicki," Dean shook his head, "you couldn't get more creative then this?"

He made a tsking sound and headed for the bathroom, catching her shrug on the way by.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for the classics."

"Nicki. Password. Now." Sam demanded.

"Impatient much?" Nicki mumbled. "Fine, it's fuzzy pink unicorns forever, all one word and the four is a number."

By the time Dean had cleaned himself up; Sam was back on the computer.

"Did you find out where the Beckly plantation was?" Dean asked, picking up the journal.

According to Lewis, Edward was buried in the family cemetery, right alongside his first two victims.

"It's not easy." Sam admitted. "A lot of plantations where destroyed during Sherman's March."

"During what?"

"Sherman's March to the Sea, 1864." Nicki answered for him. "The union army ravaged the land from Atlanta to Savannah."

Dean turned and gave his daughter a puzzled look. Sam knowing random information was normal, Julius was understandable … but Nicki?

"What?" Nicki challenged. "You think Uncle Sam is the only one who read a history book?"

Shaking his head, Dean turned back to his brother.

"So, did the Beckly place get torched too?"

"Hard to say." Sam responded. "But there is a sketch in the front of the journal that I think is a map of the plantation. Assuming it's accurate, I should at least get an idea of- Got it."

Dean moved to where he could look over his shoulder. Great, he thought to himself, another museum.

"You sure this is the right place?"

"Matched the sketch." Sam answered.

Flipping to the inside cover, Dean compared the drawing to the picture on the website. One and the same.

"How far?"

"About 300 miles."

Dean nodded and grabbed his coat. The sooner they hit the road, the sooner they could burn the b*s^a&d's bones.

* * *

So, what do you think of Nicki's hunting skills?

Let me know what you think, feedback is more then welcome.

Oh, and presently, this is my editor's favorite story, so the next part should come fairly soon. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, so my editor has become increasingly busy and I don't want to bother her with more chapters. So I have decided that, at least for the time being, I will post only un-edited chapters. I hope people still like them, even with their flaws.

Here ya go ...

**

* * *

Chapter 11**

Dean leaned back against the front seat of the Impala, totally at peace. He was on the road, heading out to burn some bones, with his brother at his side. Could life get any bet-

"So, where are we going?"

So close. He glanced back at his daughter through the review mirror.

"Don't you have homework to do?"

"Done."

"Even your report?" Sam questioned.

"Yup."

"Let's see it." Sam sighed, holding his hand over the seat.

As Sam read over the paper, his face changed from mild interest to pure confusion.

"What was the topic?"

"Your favorite general."

"And you thought Jack O'Niell was the best choice?"

"Duh! Jack is the coolest general EVER!"

Can't argue there, Dean thought with a smile. At least his daughter had good taste in television shows. Stargate SG-1 was awesome.

"They meant REAL generals." Sam pointed out.

"I'll have you know, Richard Dean Anderson was made an honorary general, by the Air Force, following O'Niell's promotion." Nicki stated. "He's a general twice over, so there. Ha!"

"Nicki …" Sam let out a frustrated breath, before turning to Dean. "Would you help me out here?"

"I don't know man," Dean smirked, "if all they said was 'favorite general' then …"

"I can't believe this." Sam muttered.

"Hey," Dean shot him a grin, "you gotta give her points for creativity."

"Yeah, that might help the F become a D." Sam grumbled, handing her back the paper. "You better rewrite it."

"The whole thing?"

"Unless you know of a REAL General O'Niell who met with aliens, then yes."

"Whatever … jerk."

Dean just smiled and turned his attention to the road. In a few hours the ghost would be ash, the case would be over, and he could get his music back. Good times were ahead.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

By the time they were pulling up to the plantation it was almost midnight. Sam had managed to find a map of the grounds on the museum's website that had the location of the cemetery on it, so the only obstacle now was finding Edward's grave. Seeing Nicki was asleep in the back, he motioned for dean to be quiet getting out of the car. This was easier said then done since the Impala's doors could use a bit of oil. Managing to get to the trunk with minimal noise, the two brothers started gathering what they would need for the salt and burn, placing it in a duffel.

"Did the map tell you where Edward was buried?" Dean whispered.

"It wasn't that accurate." Sam responded.

"It's not accurate?" Dean shot him a look. "And we're following it?"

"It had the word 'cemetery' surrounded by three headstones." Sam responded. "It's good enough."

Shutting the trunk a little harder then he intended, Sam winced at the noise it made. Watching the back window, he groaned inwardly as a blond head popped up.

"Are we there yet?" She asked with a yawn.

"See ya at the grave, Sammy." Dean took the duffel and headed toward the house.

"What?"

"You woke her, you watch her."

Sam dumped another shovel full of dirt to the growing pile and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. They were pretty far down, the coffin couldn't be too far now.

"You know," Nicki commented from her perch on the headstone, "most dads take their kids to ball games or the zoo, mine takes me grave digging. Gotta love family bonding."

Glancing up, Sam noticed a notebook spread across his niece's lap. Holding the flashlight in her left hand allowed her to write while still giving them light.

"What are you doing?" He asked, pulling out another shovel full of dirt.

"Working on my paper." She answered. "It's due tomorrow."

"Who are you writing about?" Dean grunted, dumping more dirt on the pile.

"General Lee."

"Much better." Sam commented.

"I don't know. Here's what I have so far …" Nicki cleared her throat, and began. "General Lee was a 1968 Doge Charger named after a civil war general who, as great as he was, is not as cool as the car. Both, however, are topped by the 1967 Chevy Impala, the same car owned by my dad. I will get it when he dies and Uncle Sam can take the bus because he made me re-write this stupid paper … What do you think?"

Sam's glare alternated between Nicki's grin and his laughing brother.

"Nicki-"

"Dude," Dean chuckled, "you aren't gonna win this. Just let her turn in the paper on Jack."

"You're serious?"

Dean just shrugged and continued digging. Nicki flipped her notebook closed, attached her pen to the front, and gave him a big smile.

"You are NEVER trading."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the grave, just as Dean's shovel scrapped against something solid.

"Yahtzee!" Dean stated, pushing the dirt back with the side of his shovel.

Sam hauled himself out of the grave and unzipped their duffel, unphased by the sound of splintering wood as his brother broke through the coffin lid.

"Okay, I know hunters are used to seeing dead things," Nicki said slowly, "but as a newbie, I think I'm allowed to say GROSS!"

Sam couldn't help but smile at his niece's disgust, remembering how he had his first salt and burn when he was right around her age. All things considered, Nicki was taking it remarkably well … better then he did anyway. Then again, the first guy he dug up had only been in the ground for ten years or so. Now THAT was gross.

"So what do you do now?"

"Now," Dean started, squirting a liberal amount of lighter fluid over the remains, "we light him up."

Striking the match, Dean waited until Sam was finished salting the skeleton before dropping it in. Thus ending Edward Beckly.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Thinking about the warm bed that waited for him, Dean broke a speed law or two, wanting to get back to the hotel and get a couple hours sleep before the sun came up. Reaching Charleston in record time, Dean pulled his, now sleeping, daughter from the backseat while Sam opened the door. Laying her on the couch, he covered her up, pausing for a minute. She looked so innocent when she was asleep, made him think of …

"Dean?"

Snapping out of his unwanted thoughts, Dean looked up at his brother.

"What?"

"You had that look again."

"Don't know what you are talking about, Sammy."

Not wanted to have this conversation … ever … Dean quickly shucked off his jeans and over-shirt, slipping into the bed. A sigh from Sam told him he won this round and a minute later the light flipped off and he was able to drift off.

The summer sun was bright and hot as Dean walked down the cement path. His gaze wandered over the crowd of children running through the park fountain. But in the shadows, not far off, a little girl sat alone. As he got closer, she looked up with bright green eyes.

"Daddy."

Jerking awake to the sound of Sam's ring tone, he immediately regretted telling him not to silence it at night. Just when he was about to yell at his brother to answer, the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" Nicki's sleepy voice said.

He opened his eyes to see Sam was both awake and equally confused. Why the h^$& was She answering the phone?

"Oh, hey, I'm your cousin, Nicki … He's asleep right now, you want me to wake him … Figures. He wouldn't want to wake you either …"

Like father like son, Dean thought to himself.

"You okay, kid? … Ah, nightmares, huh? … Yeah, been there. What was it, clowns or midgets? … Yikes. I see why you couldn't sleep …"

Man, if Julius and Sam got anymore alike he would have sworn they were clones. From the look on Sam's face, he was thinking the same thing about him and Nicki. He could see his brother was just about to get up when the unexpected happened.

"Listen, Julius," Nicki's voice gentle, "it's gonna be okay. Nothing is going to get to either of our dads. … Yeah, they really are the best. So you don't have to be scared. They're okay, I promise."

Dean restrained himself from sitting up and staring at her. Wasn't this the same person who switched out their shampoo for honey, got him pulled over, and locked Sam out of his computer?

"You know," she continued, "when I got nightmares, my mom used to sing to me … She would sing that one song, you know from the musical, the one about not being scared. You gotta know what I'm talking about."

Dean shared a look with Sam. Was she going to …

"_Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens … _You really don't know this? _… Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things._"

Now Dean was determined to stay as still as possible to see how far this would play out.

"_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes. Silver white winters that melt into spring, these are a few of my favorite_- you PUNK."

Sam frowned, but neither of them moved, wondering what had made her stop.

"Don't 'what' me, you were singing along! Don't know this song my eye … Flattery will get you nowhere, I already know I'm a good singer. And, speaking of singing, what's this I hear about you decking the doorman? … And you only hit him once? … Dude, if someone said that about MY dad he would be lucky if he was left standing."

So THAT'S what happened. Not only was he looking out for the little guy, literally, but he was defending family honor. Julius really was a Winchester.

"I did not! … No, I didn't forget the second verse, I skipped it on purpose … Because it's stupid, that's why … I mean sleigh bells? DOOR BELLS? And what the crap is schnitzel anyway? … how the h^& do you know that? … H*&^ no, I'm not gonna give you a dime for a swear jar … Okay, if I won't give you ten cents, I'm d#%& sure not gonna give you twenty. I dare you to ask my for thirty … Smart kid. So, do you think you can sleep now? … Great. And if you ever need anything, I mean ever, you call me, okay? … I'm gonna text you from my phone, so you have my number … got it? … Okay … Goodnight Julius."

He heard the phones being placed back on the coffee table and Nicki sigh as she settled back in her makeshift bed. Dean smiled as he closed his eyes. Who would have thought? Nicki was more like him then either of them would ever admit.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam felt he had only been asleep for a few minutes when his pillow got pulled out from under him.

"Wake up!" Nicki ordered.

He head the soft thump of a pillow hitting something and, based on the following grunt, it was his brother.

"Dude, seriously!" Nicki growled. "If I miss another day of school, mom is going to ship me off to the land of evil poodles. GET UP!"

Another thump and frustrated groan. Sam opened his eyes to see his older brother, holding tight to his own pillow and using it to bury his face.

"Just … five more … hours." Dean's muffled voice suggested.

"How about five minutes before I drive myself?" Nicki threatened, jingling the keys from her hand.

Well THAT got a reaction. Dean's head snapped up and he level a glare at his daughter.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

She grabbed her backpack and marched out of the room, seconds before the Impala's engine roared to life. Cursing, Dean threw his blankets off and ran outside.

"Get out of my car!" He shouted.

"Get some pants on!" Nicki yelled back.

Sam laughed to himself as he pulled on his jeans. One thing was sure about having Nicki around, life was not boring.

Five minutes later, he was still trying to hold in his laughter as they neared Nicki's school.

"Seriously, Dad, you couldn't have taken TWO minutes to get dress?"

"And risk you stealing my car? H^*% no." His boxer clad brother answered.

"At least he has a shirt on." Sam smirked.

"Shut up." The other two said in unison.

Pulling up to a stoplight, Dean pointed across the street to a pet store.

"Hey look, Nicki, it's one of your favorite things."

Apparently, it took a minute for his words to sink in, because it wasn't until the were moving again that he felt her kick the seat.

"You JERK! You were AWAKE?"

"It's not that bad." Sam assured her.

"You TOO!" She groaned.

"Hey, I thought it was sweet."

"I thought it was adorable." Dean smirked, pulling up to the school.

"Next time I throw the phone at your head." Nicki grumbled, climbing out of the car.

"Don't burn the place down!" Dean called after her.

She lifted her hand to signal she heard him before rushing off to join her friends.

"So where to now?" Sam questioned.

"Breakfast first," Dean responded, pulling into traffic, "then we track down where Edward kept shop."

Sam nodded, and pulled out his research. The ghost may be gone, but one of his victims was still out there.

* * *

Okay, so I hope that wasn't too terrible. I'll try to get the next chapter up asap. (It should only take a couple of days.)

In the meantime, let me know what you think about how Nicki's handling her first hunt. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, first off I would like to apologize to all of you (especially Monkeymuse who I promised this chapter to over a week ago) for taking so long. I was stuck for a LONG time in the opening part and kept putting off working on it. But tonight I couldn't sleep anyway, so I thought now is as good a time as ever to get it done.

Secondly, it is now 5:17am, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes (and I am sure you will) kindly ignore them. They are simple a result of rushing to try and get you guys the next chapter as soon as possible.

Now then, on with the story ...

**

* * *

Chapter 12**

Sam crumpled up the wrappers from their take out breakfast, tossing them in the trash, before turning back to the laptop.

"You find Beckly's lair yet?" Dean yelled over the sound of the shower.

"No, but I think I have a starting point." Sam called back.

The water cut off and Sam took it as an invitation to continue.

"We know Edward didn't keep shop at the plantation."

"Right, because someone would have heard it."

"Exactly. Now, there is a historical society that has a lot of information on 19th century plantation owners. We might be able to get some more information of what else the Beckley's owned."

"Where?"

"Port Royal." Sam answered checking the map. "About two hours from here."

"Port Royal?" Dean echoed, emerging fully clothed from the steam filled bathroom. "Isn't the where Jack Sparrow met Wil Turner?"

"Uh, no. That was Port Royal, Jamaica … and a Disney movie."

"So, I guess Kira Knightly won't be there then, huh?"

Sam rolled his eye and closed his laptop, shoving it into his brown messenger bag. The sooner they got going the better. No telling how many injuries the ghost had already inflicted on Ross Bradford since he went missing.

Following Dean outside, both hunters froze at the sight that greeted them. Three men stood between them and the Impala. One was about six feet tall with cropped sand colored hair and large, muscular, arms. The second looked like a slightly smaller version of the first, but with his hair was a bit longer. The third was almost the same height as the second, but scrawny with shaggy blond hair. To make up for his lack in size, the third also carried a long wooden bat.

"I warned you, Winchester." The little guy sneered. "Now it's time to pay."

Knowing that he had no idea who these guys were or why they were mad, Sam cast a sideways glance at Dean. His older brother was studying the big guy with an expression that was a cross between surprise and 'oh s#*^'. Taking half a step forward, Sam attempted to subtly move in front of Dean. Whatever their problem was, it was clearly with him, and he was not about to stand by and let these guys tag team his brother. He, however, did not seem to be as worried about it.

"Dude, you're supposed to feed your younger brothers."

"Hey, it's not my fault they wouldn't eat there vegetables." The big guy nodded in Sam's direction. "Looks like you had the opposite problem."

The little guy hit the big guy's arm.

"We aren't here to talk about food." He stepped back and raised the bat. "We are here for revenge."

He took a swing at the Impala's driver's side window … but was stopped when the second guy grabbed the the weapon.

"Dude!" The little guy protested, pulling the bat out of the other man's grasp. "What the h*&^?"

"The car did not do anything to you." The second guy stated firmly. "Leave her out of this."

The little guy stared at him like he just grew a new head.

"It's a CAR!"

"It's is a 1967 Chevy Impala." The second guy corrected. "It's in excellent condition, and if it doesn't stay that way, I swear I will kill you myself."

While they continued to argue about whether or not the Impala was fair game, much to the annoyance of their larger counterpart, Sam glanced over at his brother.

"Dean … what's with Larry, Mo, and Curly?"

"Well, Larry and Curly are harmless." He nodded towards the big guy. "It's Mo we need to worry about."

"Actually Sam," Mo said evenly, "YOU don't need to worry about any of us."

"How's that?" Sam questioned, already having an good idea what the answer was.

"Our fight is with your brother, we don't want to hurt you …" he shot a stern look at the other two, "OR the car."

"Fine." Curly grumbled, turning his gaze over to Dean. "But it's time for him to pay."

He swung the bat straight at the older hunter's head, with all the skill of a t-ball player. Just as Larry went to back up his bumbling companion, Sam felt himself grabbed from behind and a strong arm wrapped around his neck. He had just enough time to recognize that he was caught in a blood choke before everything went black.

**~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~**

Easily dodging each of Gavin's attacks, Dean kept an eye on Rich as he advanced. The guy may have protected his car, but that didn't mean he wouldn't knock him out first chance he got.

"Hold still." Gavin growled, swinging the bat with the greatest force he could apparently muster.

Not one to follow orders from an idiot, Dean ducked, letting the momentum of the weapon bring it straight to Gavin's head and he immediately dropped like a rock. Turning toward his new target, the hunter blocked a, much better but still not great, punch from Rich before throwing one of his own. His fist never made contact though, since right before it would have hit, Rich was pulled backwards and shoved to the side.

"Get Gavin." Brad ordered, taking a fighting stance right in front of Dean.

While Rich dragged the unconscious conman away, Dean glanced around, but notice one of the little brothers was missing.

"Where's Sam?" He demanded.

As soon as his brothers were well out of Dean's reach, Brad shifted to the side. His breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of Sam, slumped against a post with his arms behind his back, his head weakly nodding as he slowly regained conscientiousness.

"Sam!" He shot Brad a dark glare.

"Relax, if I wanted to hurt him, I would have let him stay in the fight."

Apparently Sam was fine, based on the fact he snorted at Brad's arrogance. The only person being spared with Sam chained to a handicapped sign was Brad. UFC fighter or not, there was no way the guy could take out two heavily trained hunters at the same time. On the other hand, a single well trained hunter didn't stand much chance against someone who has registered himself as a lethal weapon. Looks like his best course of action was to just keep the guy talking until the Calvary un-cuffed himself.

"Brad," Dean shook his head, "you are one stupid son of a b&^#$!"

"Excuse me?" Brad's face was a mix of anger and surprise.

"You show up a mission to defend your sister's honor like some sort of misguided Prince Charming. Well I got a news flash for you, Caroline wasn't exactly Snow White when I came along. So, why don't you go beat up that guy."

"You abandoned my sister to raise your baby alone, you cad."

"Did you just call me a fish?"

"That's cod, Dean." Sam corrected, twisting against his bindings.

"Eh," Dean shrugged, "tomato, potato, it's all the same to me."

"Are you Mental?" Brad questioned, confusion mixing in with thew other emotions.

"Me? I'm not the one talking like I am a knight of the freaking round table." Dean slowly moved to the side until he was directly across from Sam. "I hate to break it to you, Lancelot, but Indiana Jones already found the Holy Grail. So why don't you go hook up with Sir Bedevere and the two of you can build a wooden rabbit to attack the French, huh?"

The lingering confusion in Brad's eyes told Dean he had no idea what he was talking about, but clearly had enough brain power to know he had been insulted. He watched as the fighter turned red, clenching his fists in preparation for his impending attack. Stalling wasn't going to last much longer. Dean only hoped that Sam would be able to get his lock-pick set before he became roadkill. No sooner had he had the thought before he was ducking Brad's fist. The fight was on … crap.

**~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam had just managed to reach the lock picks in his pocket when Brad attacked. Though he was able to hold his own in the beginning, Brad soon had Dean pinned down and the younger hunter couldn't get his cuffs off fast enough. Once free, Sam grabbed the bat from where Gavin had dropped it and rushed to help his brother, as the UFC fighter mercilessly rained now blow after blow.

"Brad!" Rich called out, but his warning was too late.

He had barely started to turn when the bat connected with his skull and Brad dropped to the ground. Doing a quick visual check, Sam saw Dean was favoring his left side, had a few facial contusions, but was able to stand on his own … for the most part anyway.

"I'm okay, Sammy." He gasped.

Knowing that he had to be in more pain then he was letting on, Sam guided Dean to the passenger-side of the Impala. His suspicions where confirmed when the older brother didn't protest. Moving around to the driver's side, Sam shot a glare at the only Trafford still standing.

"Hey, I got no quarrel with you." Rich insisted, raising his hands in surrender. "The past is past and all that. I'll just get my brothers and go … sorry we bothered you."

Knowing the mechanic wasn't a threat, Sam pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the nearest hospital.

"Where the h^&$ are you going?"

"You need a doctor, Dean."

"Just hand me an ice pack and I'll be fine."

"Dean, you just got your a$% kicked by a UFC fighter."

"I've had worse." He insisted, wincing as he shifted in his seat. "Remember that werewolf back in Toledo?"

"You mean the one who almost killed you?"

"Yup … way worse than this."

Pulling up to a red light, Sam gave him another once over. His breathing seemed fine, he was able to mask the pain … for the most part anyway.

"Seriously, I'm fine." Dean gave him a small smile. "But if it's all the same to you, I think I'll wait in the car while you look up the Beckly's property."

"Fine." Sam caved. "but it you any trouble breathing-"

"I know the drill, Sammy. Let's just get this over with so we can finish this d^%& thing, okay?"

Twenty minutes later, Sam emerged from the historical society with the list of everything the Beckly family owned. Walking up to the seemingly empty Impala, he wondered where his brother had gone … until he looked in the back seat.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Came a muffled voice from under a layer of ice-packs.

"Didn't we only have five of those?"

"Yeah."

"So … where did the other nine come from?"

Without dropping the icepack from his hand, Dean pointed over to a field not far from the car.

"You stole them from the kiddie soccer teams?"

"It's not the first time." He muttered, settling back under his blanket of ice-packs. "They always have more then they need."

Before Sam could protest, he was cut off by the sound of Smoke on the Water. With the skill of a circus performer, Dean managed to answer his phone without dropping a single ice-pack.

"Hello? … Who wants to know? … What did she do? … Fine, I'll be right there."

He hung up and pulled himself up, letting the icy packets slid onto the seat.

"Come on," he grunted, "we have to go pick up Nicki."

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~**

Dean looked up at the building in front of him. Was there some kind of rule then said schools must be big, boring, and brick?

"So, what exactly did she do that made them have to call you two hours after school started?"

"We'll find out son enough." Dean answered, climbing out of the car.

Sam nodded and followed his brother up the steps, until his own cell phone stopped him short.

"It's Julius," Sam informed him, "I'll meet you inside."

"Eh, take your time." Dean shrugged. "This probably won't tae long anyway."

Leaving Sam to his phone call, Dean made his way to the principle's office. After casting a flirtatious smile at the secretary, he was called in by a short balding man with a serious expression.

"I'm glad you can join us. I'm Priciple Peters, Mr … uh …"

"Winchester." Dean finished, shaking his hand.

He glanced down to where Nicki was slumped in one of the wooden chairs across from the principle's desk.

"So … what did you do know?"

"What did I do?" Nicki gave him a weird look. "I'm not the one who looks like I called Mike Tyson a sissy."

"Really, Nicki? The best you could come up with is a Ninja Turtles reference?"

"Hey, don't knock the classics, Dad."

Dean opened his mouth, but the principle cleared his throat.

"Please have a seat." He motioned to a chair beside Nicki, while he sat down behind his desk. "Now, I have brought you down here because of a very serious matter."

"Yeah right." Nicki mumbled.

"Mr. Winchester," Principle Peters continued, "your daughter sabotaged a fellow student's project, cause sixty dollars worth of damage, and disrupted her entire science class."

"One, I didn't SABOTAGE it, I IMPROVED it." Nicki corrected. "Second, I was not the one who disrupted the class. It's not MY fault Mark Walker screams like a little girl."

Now Dean was REALLY curious.

"What did you do?"

"It was just a harmless prank-"

"That caused sixty dollars in damages."

"Give me a break." Nicki rolled her eyes. "It was ONE textbook. It's not like you don't have a few dozen more."

"That is not the point, young lady." Principle Peters said sternly, before turning to Dean. "Surely you can understand the seriousness of this matter."

"I don't even understand what happened."

"I switched out the vinegar and baking soda in Mark's volcano project with a few chemicals I got from a friend." Nicki said proudly. "When he mixed the stuff together, poof, instant foam … expanding foam. It was beautiful."

"I'm afraid you are the only one who thinks so." Principle Peters snorted.

Speak for yourself, Dean thought with a grin. Just when he thought she couldn't get anymore like him …

"Mr. Winchester, this is nothing to smile about. Nicki is causing chos in the classroom."

"Ah, come on." Dean shrugged. "Kids will be kids. Beside this is NOTHING compared to what I did in school. You want chaos, you should look up-"

"You!"

Hearing the familiar voice, Dean turned his grin towards the old man in the doorway.

"Hathi, it's been too long."

"You know Mr. Hawthorn?" Nicki questioned, her voice a blend of confusion and surprise.

The science teacher, however, stared at the hunter with a mix of anger, shock, and horror.

"George," He said, finally finding his voice again, "this … delinquent … is the reason I don't teach in high school anymore."

"What did YOU do?" Nicki asked in amazement.

"Hey," Dean held up his hands, "you were the one who told me to experiment."

"Yes, but not to make explosives! You caused over four hundred dollars ion damages!"

"So … Nicki grinned up at the adults, "I guess MY prank is looking pretty good now, huh?"

Mr. Hawthorn suddenly seemed to notice her presence and scowled down at the girl.

"Suddenly it is all becoming clear. Chaos has begotten havoc, no wonder you are so much trouble."

Nicki just gave him a sweet smile and shrugged.

"What can I say? Awesomeness just runs in the family."

That's my girl.

After paying for the textbook, Nicki and Dean headed back to the Impala and found Sam still on the phone … and having a very interesting conversation.

"I don't care who else does it, you are not setting yourself on fire … Yeah, that's because ripping your legs off is not going to hurt you … Julius, you are NOT doing it, period … We'll find another way …" He looked up and saw them standing on the steps. "Look, I have to go, we'll talk about this later … bye, Julius."

Hanging up with a sigh, he turned toward Dean, who continued to stare at his as if he turned into a flying monkey.

"And I thought MOM'S side of the family was weird." Nicki mumbled.

"It's for the play." Sam explained.

"Of course it is." Dean just smiled and nodded, heading towards the car.

"In the scene where the witch is melted she sets the scarecrow on fire." Sam added. "Julius wants his part to be as authentic as possible."

"So naturally," Dean shrugged, "the kid wants to set himself on fire?"

"Well, we are already letting the flying monkeys pull his stilts off- what?"

"Nothing." Dean chuckled. "Let's just go."

Sam glared, but started the car and headed towards Nicki's house. Once she was dropped off, they could track down Ross Bradford's prison, and this whole mess would finally be over.

"Hey look," Nicki commentated as they pulled up to her house, "Mom is here."

Good, Dean thought to himself, now I can talk to her about giving my number away. No sooner had he followed Nicki into the house, then Caroline grabbed her coat.

"What are you doing home so early?"

"What are you doing leaving so early?" Nicki countered.

"I have rehearsal, you?"

"I have a high strung science teacher with no measurable sense of humor."

Caroline closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I swear, if you super-glued another boy to his desk-"

"Chill mom," Nicki assured her and she walked towards her room, "no glue was involved, super or not."

"Whatever, we'll talk about it later." She turned to Dean, "thanks for picking her up."

Without giving them a chance to respond, she grabbed her keys and was out the door. Unbelievable. And she said HE was irresponsible.

"Dean," Sam looked down the hall, "you think we should take her with us?"

Well true that she probably wouldn't stay longer then ten minutes after they left, they still had work to do.

"No," Dean answered, "she'll be-"

He was interrupted by a whirring noise.

"What is that?" Sam asked, glancing around the room.

Dean dug into his pocket and pulled out his EMF reader, which was currently going crazy. Moving around the room, it looked like the readings were coming from … oh God no!

"Dad!" Nicki screamed.

"Nicki!" Dean pounded on the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Nicki just hold on!" Sam yelled, while Dean kicked at the door. "We'll get you out!"

"Dad, he's coming!"

An eerie voice whispered through the wood.

_"Traitor … Traitor … Traitor!"_

"DAD! HELP ME!"

"NICKI!"

Dean let out a frustrating scream and the door flew open, but everything was quiet. The reader had stopped, the voice was gone … and so was Nicki.

* * *

That's all for now.

Sorry if it was a little choppy, I had a lot I wanted to put in this chapter. (Note the extra thpousand words to my normal chapter length.)

Let me know what you think and I promise I will post the next one sooner. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, I'm REALLY sorry this took so long, but my real life decided it would be fun to see what would happen if a hurricane, tornado, earthquake, and flood all hit at the same time. (AKA, school, work, family crisis, and internship project.)

Anyway, I am writing again, so here is the first of several that will appear this weekend. (I hope to have each active story updated by midnight on Sunday ... my time.)

So, enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 13**

"No no no NO!" Dean rushed into the room. "Nicki!"

"Dean-"

But it was like his brother couldn't hear him.

"Son of a b^&%#, " Dean muttered, searching the small room. "NICKI!"

"Dean, she's gone."

He shook his head in denial and continued his fruitless search, throwing open her closet doors as if she was just playing hide and seek.

"Here," Dean said, abandoning the closet and moving to the bed, "help me flip this over."

Grabbing him by the shoulders before he could cause any damage, Sam locked eyes with his near frantic sibling. He knew what it was like to have your child taken by evil. When Julius was abducted by Kate, Dean was the one who kept him focused, and now it was his turn to return the favor … as soon as he brought him back to reality.

"Dean … she's gone."

"No!" He broke free of Sam's grip. "She can't be gone. She's smart and strong, there is no way she would have let that b^s*a%d take her."

"You and I both know that a ghost can take you, trained or not."

"But it doesn't make any sense." Dean started to pace the room like a caged tiger. "Why her? She has nothing to do with this. She doesn't even match the MO."

"Actually-"

Sam cut himself of when Dean stopped and sent an icy glare his way. He was going to have to find a better way to correct his brother, or else he was probably going to get punched.

"Think about this like a hunter." He said gently, ticking the list off on his fingers. "She is Caroline's firstborn kid, we knew he was going to take another girl, we knew he was going to take a teenager-"

"But why her?" Dean demanded sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"I don't know." Sam admitted, "but it can't have been random."

He watched his older brother look around his daughter's room, the look on his face telling Sam exactly what he was thinking.

"Dean, this is not your fault."

"You sure about that?" He challenged, rising to his feet. "I'm the one who let her hunt, I'm the one who brought her into this."

"Yeah, and if Beckly had already wanted her? What then?"

Breaking his gaze, Dean looked at his feet.

"I can't loose her too."

Though little more then a whisper, those words were enough to bring back a flood of memories for Sam, all the people they had lost. H placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You won't, we'll find her in time."

Dean looked up, his eyes now hard and focused.

"We'll find her alright … then I am going to take care of that son of a b*^$# once and for all."

**~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

Following Sam into the hotel room, Dean dumped a pillowcase full of books onto the table.

"Okay, this is everything she had that recorded her life." He stated, scanning over the pile of photo albums, scrapbooks and journals.

Sam nodded and started to flip through a scrap book of what appeared to be summer camps. Looks like he was starting with the diaries. Grabbing the oldest one, Dean opened up to the first page.

_THIS BOOK BALONGS TO_

_NICOLE MARY ALICE TRAFFORD_

_AGE 7_

_REED AND DYE!_

Despite the situation, Dean couldn't help but smirk at how similar Nicki was to him when he was little. From the threat to the bad spelling, it was amazing how many things could be hereditary. Turning the page over, he started to scan the first entry.

"_March 10th 2002_

_Dear Daddy_,-"

What the h^&%?

"_Everyone is mean so Im going to talk to you now. Mom says you are a bad man. I dont belive her. She says Im bad too but Im NOT bad. Im good and Mikey is the bad one. He got paint on Mandy on purpose. She was crying becase it was her new dress so I pourd my jar of paint on Mikeys head. Now Mom says I cant have any ice cream. Its not fair. I bet YOU would have pourd paint on his head if he made your little brother cry. (Mom said you have one and he is small and nice and you love him a lot.) I dont have a brother but Mandy is my bestest friend and she is small too so I have to get Mikey back for her. Mom and Miss Wallace said what I did was bad. I guess sometimes bad means good._

_March 12th 2002_

_Dear Daddy,_

_I got it! I know how you are good and bad. You are Batman! The cops say he is bad, but REALLY he helps people. Yes I like this. You are Batman and your brother is Robin and I am Batgirl. Because bats are bigger then birds does that mean Im in charge of your brother? I think it does._"

"-find something?"

Dean looked up from the book to see his brother watching him.

"What?"

"I said did you find something?"

"No … why?"

"You were smiling."

"Well," Dean shrugged, "Nicki's logic is awesome."

For a second, Sam looked like he was about to respond, but just shook his head and returned his attention to the photo album in front of him.

"What year is that?" Sam questioned, flipping through another page of pictures.

"2002."

Sam glanced up at the stack of diaries long enough to locate one and toss it to Dean.

"Here," he muttered, before going back to the album, "I think it's a pretty safe bet that any secrets she has would have come after the teddy bear picnic years."

Seriously doubting that Nicki even HAD teddy bear picnic years, Dean opened up the journal Sam pulled out.

"_This Book Belongs to_

_Nicki Trafford_

_A Curse Lay On All Who Read It_"

At least she seemed to mellow out over the years.

"_March 8th, 2005_

_Dear Dad,_

_I'm 10 now, the big 1-0. Uncle Gavin has been teasing me all day about getting old. He should look in a mirror, I mean, he is 21 crying out loud. And Uncle Brad is over 30! Now THAT is old. Then again, you're old too. You are 26, I think. When is your birthday?_

_March 11th, 2005_

_Dear Dad,_

_I know the truth._"

Now that got his attention. Turning the page, he knew he was going to find a secret … he just didn't know which one.

"_March 12th, 2005_

_Dear Dad,_

_Sorry I stopped like that. I just needed time to think. Last night I heard Mom and Granny talking, they thought I was in bed. Anyway, it turns out that Mom wanted to give me up, but Granny and Papa wouldn't let her. Uncle Gavin came in and said that they had to move because of me. Looks like I was not only a mistake but also a bunch of trouble. So I made up my mind. I'm going to take care of myself now. That way, no one has to worry about me. And when I get enough money, I will get a car and come find you. I don't know if you would want me either, but from what I know about how you treated your brother, it can't be any worse then here. One day, Batman, I'll come find you._"

Dean tightened his grip on the book, making a mental note to kill Gavin and wishing he had found out about Nicki sooner.

"You okay?" Sam asked, setting aside the photo album he had apparently finished.

"I'll be fine." Dean growled.

Just as soon as he got his daughter back.

**~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~**

Giving his brother a worried glance, Sam pulled over a scrapbook. The album had been primarily of summer camps, so he didn't learn much beyond Nicki's love for s'mores. Opening the scrapbook he had to do a double take.

"Huh."

"What?"

"Looks like Nicki WAS a girl scout." Sam commented, turning the book so Dean could see.

He pointed out a picture of Nicki, around age eight, in a girl scout uniform with her arm draped over a small black girl wearing the same thing.

"What do ya know." Dean said, "Who is the other kid?"

"Don't know." Sam admitted, taking the book back. "But she shows up a lot."

Dean looked over the stack, grabbed one of the journals, and started to flip through it.

"Here it is, June 7th, 2003," he read, "Mandy and I are girl scouts now. I didn't really want to, but she didn't want to join alone. Anyway, there is this girl in our troop, Mia, who brags that she is going to get more badges then me. Dream on, sister."

Dean flipped through a few more pages. Sam watched him in confusion before speaking up.

"What are you looking for?"

"I want to see if she beat Mia."

Rolling his eyes Sam looked back down at the scrapbook and to, yet another, picture of Mandy. Nicki said Mandy had been her best friend. What if-

"Ha!"

Man, he was worst then his daughter, Sam thought to himself, looking up to see pride shining in his brother's eyes.

"Check this out, November 14th, 2003, it's official, I'm no longer a girl scout. At least I took that prissy-jerk-faced-cookie-stealing-troll down with me. Mia may have kept her scout-hood, but it is going to take a while for her eyebrows to grow back. On a side note, I now know that flour is flammable. I'll have to keep that in mind for the next 4th of July."

"Well," Sam smiled, "she is definitely your kid."

"D^&* straight she is." Dean agreed, his face falling slightly.

"Hey." Sam waited until he had his brother's attention. "We will get her back."

Dean nodded slightly and picked up another of the journals. Sam turned the page and found a glitter covered page featuring Nicki and Mandy.

"**BEST FRIENDS 4 EVER**"

Birthday parties, camp outs, zoo trips, it looks like those two did everything together from age five until Nicki moved out of Boston when she was nine. The next panel must have been Nicki's last birthday. Her and Mandy were painting each other's nails, eating cake, and smiling over an assortment of CDs. A flowing script circled the page.

"_Ebony and Ivory live together in perfect harmony …_"

Wait … could it really be that simple? Sam set the book aside and opened his laptop.

"Find something?"

"Maybe." Sam muttered, pulling up the obituaries from 1934. "That's it."

Dean circled the table and leaned over his shoulder.

"What do you got?"

"Carlton Digby was generous DESPITE segregation laws, Phillip O'Malley adopted a boy from Africa, and I would bet you anything that Charity and Maggie Harley are both black."

"Okay … what does that have to do with Nicki?"

"Take a look at Mandy." Sam pointed out the two pages.

"Are you saying this ghost is racist?"

"Well, he grew up in the south before the civil war. I'd be surprised if he WASN'T, at least a little bit biased."

"If he was a traitor." Dean whispered, turning to their stacks of research.

While Dean pulled out Nathan Beckly's journal, Sam shook his head.

"But that doesn't make any sense, Dean." He reasoned. "If Thomas Beckly had liked blacks he would have been called a sympathizer, not a traitor."

"Not if his brothers didn't want to smear his name." Dean responded, skimming through the century old text. "Here it is, March 19th, 1862, mine own brother is a traitor. To speak out would surely mean his death."

Sam thought about it. If Thomas had been a sympathizer, his name would have been tarnished. He could understand why Nathan kept his mouth shut, but Edward killed him. If he hated him that much why wouldn't he have just called him on it? Maybe … maybe he didn't hate him …

"Dean what if-"

He cut off as soon as he spotted the hard look in his brother's eyes.

"What is it?"

"He called her a traitor at the museum."

"What?"

"She heard a voice Sam. He targeted her at the museum."

"How do you know?"

"Because … I heard it too."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"This is insane."

Ignoring his brother, Dean locked his favorite gun in the trunk and choosing a 9mm instead.

"Bobby will be here soon to back you up."

"Yeah, I'm not really worried about me here." Sam caught him by the arm. "I'm not going to let you just give yourself over to him."

"He has Nicki, Sam." Dean growled, shaking himself free. "I'll be d^&%ed if I let her go through this alone."

"There has to be another way." Sam reasoned.

Dean shot his younger sibling a determined look.

"I'm going."

"Then I am going with you."

D#$%, he could be stubborn as h*&^.

"No way," Dean shook his head. "You and I both know he only comes when his victim is alone."

A knot tightened in Dean's stomach at the words that just left his mouth. Why did he leave her alone?

"You really think giving yourself to this guy is going to help her?"

"Would you do it for Julius?"

"Would you let me?"

Dean dropped his eyes to the ground.

"I wouldn't be able to stop you." He whispered.

Turning away from Sam, Dean headed into the abandoned house, hoping Sam followed his instructions and brought the car back to the motel. Checking his throwaway piece, the hunter entered the crumbling residence, hoping his plan would work

Dean moved carefully through the building. His expression was focused, but his eyes burned with anger. He searched each room, unsurprised when he came up empty.

"Where are you?" He muttered.

He seemed to get his answer as the temperature dropped, his breath becoming a white cloud. He turned in time for the spirit to take him by the throat, pinning him to the wall, a long knife clutched in his pale hand.

"Traitor." He hissed, slicing his blade down Dean's side.

Dean grunted in pain and tried to raise his gun, but the ghost knocked it from his hands. With a wild gleam in his eye, the spirit pressed the blade against the hunter's throat.

"Death to traitors."

Dean struggled to get free as blood began to trickle down his neck, but soon his eyes closed and his body went still.

* * *

There you have it, the ending of the last story.

Since I have a LOT of stories I want to write before Summer's end, I will try to get the next part up as soon as possible.

BTW, I post soonest on the ones with the most reviews, so if you like it REVIEW! :)


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry this took so long (Monkeymuse), but I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out how a psycho from 1862 Georgia would talk. I know I left a lot a lot of people hanging with the last chapter (Monkeymuse), but thanks to some, more persistent readers (Monkeymuse), I was able to push past my writer's block and get this done. Thanks to the people who offered help and encouragement (LinkXZ and Monkeymuse) and the people who wouldn't leave me alone about it (Monkeymuse).

This chapter is for all of you ... and Monkeymuse. ;)

Enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 14**

Sam had made it half way to the hotel before the knot that had been tightening in his gut for the last eighteen hours became unbearable. Every since Dean revealed that he had been targeted, all Sam wanted to do was hide him away somewhere where Beckly couldn't reach him. Instead, he drove him out in the early morning hours so he could dangle himself out in the open like a worm on a hook. Stopping at a red light, Sam watched the sky change from pink to blue, a cold promise for a new day of pain for his family.

"Screw this." He muttered, turning the Impala around and heading back to the house.

There had to be another way, and whatever it was, Sam would find it. He pulled up to the building and grabbed his gun and emf reader. It had only been fifteen minutes since he dropped off Dean, but Sam knew, from first hand experience, how quickly a spirit could overtake you.

He searched the house from top to bottom and found nothing. Just as he was about to try the cellar, something silver caught his eye. Crouching down, Sam reached under a rickety table and pulled out the cold, metal object.

"D&^#." Sam cursed, looking at Dean's gun.

He was too late. Now his brother AND his niece were in the hands of a madman … and he still had no idea how to find them.

**~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

When Dean came to, the first thing he felt was pain in his shoulders. At least it took his mind of the gash in his side, he thought bitterly. He hands were in shackles, suspend from a support beam in an old cabin, but one far newer then any owned by the Beckly family. Crap. How was Sam going to find them now?

"You are a traitor." A raspy voice hissed from somewhere behind him, causing him to immediately stiffen. "Death comes to traitors."

A second later the image of Edward Beckly circled around in from of him. The light from the oil lamps gave Dean his first good look of the ghost, and made him wish they were still in the dark house. Aside from numerous cuts and bruises, he had a broken nose one eye that was doing a golf ball imitation, and he had a stream of blood running over the left side of his face. He looked like he had gone ten rounds with a Mack Truck before the thing had pity on him and just ran him over.

"Dude," Dean stepped back as far as his shackles would let him, "you are one fugly b^s*a$d."

"You can thank infidels, such as yourself, for this for my appearance." The ghost sneered rolling up his sleeves, revealing a splintered bone jutting out of his right arm. "You will not look handsome for much longer, unless you mend your ways."

"Cut the crap." Dean snapped. "If that was an option, half your victims would still be alive."

"Not quite half." Beckly commented, running his hand over a row of rods and whips, before selecting a riding crop. "Though some are lying cowards, many are stubborn … your daughter for instance …"

Dean felt his blood boil as he thought about what this guy might have already done to his daughter.

"You sick son of a b^&%#!" He growled, lunging towards the phantom, "if you hurt her I will rip you apart!"

"What is done is done." Beckly said calmly, circling behind the enraged hunter. "She had to be punished for her crimes."

Dean tried to breath through his anger, but still saw only red. He had punished her, beat her for the sole reason that her best friend was black. He was SO going to pay for this.

"Now it is your turn," the ghost continued, running the end of the riding crop down Dean's spine. "Confess your crimes."

"What crimes?"

He bit back a scream as the leather whipped across his bear shoulders.

"Confess your crimes." Beckly repeated in a harsh tone.

"Fine," Dean growled, "when I was seven I stole a candybar-"

"I said confess!" Beckly yelled, striking him with each word.

"I am confessing!" Dean countered. "What, do you want more recent crimes? Fine, last week I took ten bucks from Sam-"

With a frustrated growl, Beckly lashed him three more times.

"I was referring to the crimes you committed with the negro scum."

"Okay …" Dean paused, acting like he was thinking about it, "I got nothing."

The leather whipped his back so hard, the hunter was surprised that it hadn't broken any skin.

"That's gonna leave a mark." Dean groaned, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain.

When he opened they, he came face to face with a VERY annoyed spirit.

"Confess your crimes." Beckly hissed. "Confess what you did, whore lover."

"Oh, THOSE crimes." Dean nodded. "Yeah … are you meaning in general or one particular girl? Because I honestly don't remember all their names."

"You flaunt your licentiousness, but it will be your downfall."

"Dude, I don't even have lice!"

"Not lice, you imbecile." Beckly corrected. "It means you are lacking in sexual restraint."

"Yup," Dean grinned, "that I am."

The ghost gave him a dark glare, tapping the riding crop against his palm, before circling around behind him, clearly fed up with the banter and ready to get back to business.

"Confess your crimes." Beckly ordered, striking Dean before he even had a chance to answer.

Dean closed his eyes for the rest of the beating, focusing on the idea that, once it was over, he would be able to see his daughter.

"_Hold on, Nicki_," he thought to himself, as the crop stung his back over and over in time to Beckly's mantra, "_I'll be there soon, just hold on_."

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

"Thank you for your time." Sam sighed, hanging up the phone.

He crossed another location off the list, growing more and more frustrated at the lack of progress. So far he had uncovered six hunting cabins, three lodges, and four houses that belong to one member of the Beckly family or another, and that was not including the main plantation. Halfway through the list and he had discovered that two lodges, three cabins and one house had been destroyed something in the last hundred years. The one place he found that was still standing was a house that had been converted to a bed and breakfast. Since none of the guests had not reported any cold spots or sounds of people screaming, he was pretty sure that would be a dead end. He had just started to dial the next number when he heard the familiar rumble of an old engine.

"Finally." He muttered, heading for the door.

Stepping out into the noonday sun, Sam shielded his eyes while he impatiently watched his friend climbed out of his car.

"Hey Bobby." Sam said quickly, motioning the older hunter inside.

"Hey Sam." Bobby responded, looking over the mess of research strewn around the small room. "Where's Dean?"

Sam shut the door, a little harder then necessary and ran his hair through his shaggy hair. Apparently when he had called in back up, Dean had left out a few details.

"Gone." He ground out. "He let Beckly take him."

"He what?"

"I couldn't stop him," Sam continued, "not after it took his daughter-"

"His WHAT?" Bobby snapped. "Boy, you better sit down and tell me what the h^%& is going on here."

"But Bobby, we don't have-"

"Sit!"

Sam sighed in defeat and perched on the edge of his bed. He knew the ten minutes he spent filling Bobby in wouldn't kill Dean or Nicki, but he didn't like the idea of them spending one second longer with Beckly then they had to. But, truth be told, he needed help and he wasn't going to get it without coming clean.

"It started Friday when Dean and I went to a country bar …"

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean woke to discover three things; he was sitting down, he was cold, and his back hurt like h^%&. Shifting against the rough wall he was leaving against revealed something else, he wasn't alone. Peering into the shadows next to him, Dean managed to make out a small shape with long blond hair.

"Nicki?" He whispered, pushing her hair back to get a better look at her face.

Green eyes fluttered open and a small smile appeared in the dark.

"Hey Dad," she murmured, "glad you could join the party."

"Oh, thank God" he whispered, wrapping his arm around his daughter.

She returned the embrace, but he heard a small whimper and pulled back.

"Did he hurt you?"

She had barely opened her mouth when a voice yelled from the opposite corner.

"What kind of a dumb question is that?" The stranger groaned. "Of COURSE the sick b%s&a*d hurt her. What else did you expect him to do?"

Dean glared at the man in the corner, but quickly returned his focus to Nicki who appeared to be looking for a more comfortable position. The wince she was trying to hide everything her back touched the wall told Dean that what he went through must have been the standard meet and greet.

"Always a ray of sunshine, Ross." She called cheerfully, to their fellow prisoner.

The older man grunted in displeasure and rolled over on his side, away from them.

"That's roll Bradford." Nicki informed him, finally settling down so tat her head was resting on his shoulder. "He has been entertaining me since I got here with a detailed account of how I am going to die."

Even thought she was clearly trying to keep her voice light, Dean picked up the fear that shown through her eyes.

"Come here." Dean said softly.

He gently tightened his grip, pulling her as close as he could without hurting her. She draped her arm across his stomach, snuggling against his side.

"I don't want to die, Dad." She half sobbed, almost to quiet to hear.

"You won't." He stated firmly. "I promise."

And that was one promise he intended to keep. No matter what happened, Nicki was going to get out of this alive … and Edward Beckly was going to burn.

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

"… and that's when you showed up." Sam finished, looking up at the older hunter.

Bobby pulled off his cap and scratched his head before putting it back on.

"D^&% idjit will be the death of me." He muttered.

He crossed over to the table and picked up Sam's list, doing a quick scan.

"These all the places you have left to check?"

"Yup," Sam replied, glad for the switch into hunter mode, "the first seven were a bust."

Bobby nodded and started sifting through the rest of their notes.

"You call the rest, I'm going to look over whatever else you gathered."

Sam nodded and picked up the list. Who knows, maybe the veteran hunter would see something they missed.

"Thanks, Bobby," he sighed, pulling out his cell phone, "I really-"

"Save it until we save your brother." Bobby said gruffly, burring himself in paperwork.

Sam smiled to himself. It was good to have back up, especially twenty minutes later when he hit another dead end.

"Anything?" Bobby asked, as Sam hung up on the last number.

Sam shook his head and scratched out the last name on the list.

"Two were torn down, three are currently in use, one is being remodeled, and none have shown any signs of a hunting."

Bobby sighed and turned the page in Lewis' journal. Sam had already scanned through the thing twice, but there was always the chance he missed something. Based on the way his friend's face changed from mild interest to pure concentration told him that must be the case.

"Check this out," Bobby pointed to an entry. "Says here that the brother's went hunting together at a friend's cabin in Decatur, about ten miles from their plantation."

"You think that's where he has them?" Sam asked, his voice hopeful.

"Only one way to find out." Bobby responded grabbing his coat.

Sam was already halfway through to the door before he had it on.

"I'm driving." The younger hunter announced, heading straight for the Impala.

He really hoped they were on the right track. If not … no, this had to be the right place. There was no where else to look and Sam couldn't go back to square one, not with his family's lives on the line.

* * *

Sorry it's a bit short, this just seemed like a good place to stop.

Anyway, let me know what you think and I WILL get started on the next chapter, I promise. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, as requested (Monkeymuse ;) ), here is the next part.

NOTE: It is after 5:00am, I an quite sleepy, but not enough to actually sleey, so I wrote this chapter. (Er ... most of it anyway.) Please excuse any and all typos, I just don't like to keep you guys waiting once the chapter is finished.

That being said, enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 15**

"No! No, please! I'll confess! Please, don't!"

Dean's eyes flew open in time to see the ghost dragging Ross towards the door. Nicki was gripping his side, her eyes wide with fear, and Dean wrapped his arm around her. Whether it was more for protection or comfort he didn't know, but the fact it seemed to help was enough. Even so, she didn't fully relax, even after the two were gone.

"I'm next." She whispered.

"Not if I can help it." Dean growled.

She shook her head, quickly brushing away a tear before it could fall.

"There's nothing you can do, Dad. He always does it in order." She explained. "Ross, me, then you."

"What did he do so far?"

Nicki bit her lip and looked away. Gently gripping her chin, Dean turned his daughter's face back towards him.

"What did he do?" He asked firmly.

"He horsewhipped me on the first day." She answered glumly, her eyes downcast.

Same as him, Dean thought to himself. The f&^%ing b^s#a$d.

"And yesterday."

"Yesterday … well … lets just say I won't be running any marathons anytime soon."

Pushing away from the wall, he tried to hold back his grimace and he moved to where he could see Nicki's feet. For the second time since he came there, Dean saw red, as his fingers ghosted over Nicki's discolored soles.

"I'll be fine, Dad." She said with strained optimism. "They used to beat slaves' feet all the time to keep them from running away. It hurts like a b^&%*, but won't cause and lasting damage."

Oh, like THAT help. This ghost was SO going down. Dean made his way back over to the wall, this time placing himself between the door and his daughter, and wondered how exactly they were going to get out of this one.

"Dad?" Nicki's voice almost too quiet to hear.

"Yeah?"

"Will you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is." Dean answered truthfully.

"Promise me you won't get yourself killed trying to save me."

Of all the things she could have said, that wasn't even close to what he had expected to hear.

"What the h^&%, Nicki."

He looked down into his daughter's eyes, softening when he saw the tears forming.

"Uncle Sam needs you, the victims families need you, h#*$, the whole d^&# country needs you, and …" she looked down at her hands, "and I don't want you to die … not because of me."

Dean took a calming breath and moved so he was looking her in the eye.

"Listen to me." He started. "I am not going to die, and even if I was, it would not be BECAUSE of you, it would be FOR you."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is, none of this is your fault."

"But you came here because of me."

"No, I came here because a 150 year old psycho killer doesn't like my taste in women."

"Dad, I'm not stupid. I know you could have protected yourself if you wanted to." Nicki looked him straight in the eye. "You LET him take you, admit it."

Wow, this kid was way too perceptive for her own good, but there was no way Dean was going to let her lay that guilt on herself.

"Hey, every hunter gets taken now then." Dean shrugged. "Look at Sam, that kid probably holds the record for supernatural abductions."

Dean could tell she was still skeptical, but a second later if was the farthest thing from their minds, as Ross Bradford's screams echoed from above.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"Thank you very much." Bobby said polity, before hanging up his cell.

That had been his third phone call trying to find information on the cabin. So far, they didn't even have an address.

"Anything?" Sam asked, as he navigated the interstate.

He heard Bobby shuffling through his notes before answering.

"The cabin has been on the market for about five years now, but it's too small and remote to interest many people."

"Perfect place for a ghost."

"Yup." Bobby agreed. "Last owner didn't report anything weird, but they were there for less then twenty years, not long enough for the ghost to make an appearance."

"Any activity in '82?"

"It was empty from spring of '81 until the summer of '85." Bobby answered. "Haven't found anything before that, paranormal or otherwise."

"But it could still be the place." Sam said.

Based on the older hunter's sigh, he was about to tell him to prepare himself if it's not, maybe even point out that they still have several days to find Dean and Nicki, but Sam was not in the mood for that level of practicality.

"It has to be the right place." He stated firmly, before his friend could finish forming his first syllable.

"Calm down, ya idjit," Bobby growled, "of course it could be the right place. But there are still-"

"I don't care." Sam interrupted. "If there is any chance, we are checking it out."

Bobby fell silent while Sam tried to focus on not getting in an accident at his current speed. Part of him knew he shouldn't have snapped at Bobby, but a greater part could only think about what that sadistic b*s&a%d was doing to his family. No matter how many times his Dad had drilled it into him not to get too emotional about a hunt, it all went out the window at times like these. This son of a b^&*# had gone too far, and Sam was not going to let him continue his reign of terror for another day. He was going to find Dean and Nicki, they were going to be okay, then he was going to end Edward Beckly once and for all.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~**

Not long after Ross stopped screaming, Beckly dragged his bloody body back into the cellar. Dean tightened his grip on Nicki, one eye on the ghost and the other on the red strips that crisscrossed Ross' back. The guy may be a dick, but he didn't deserve a whipping like that. After depositing his unconscious prisoner, Edward glanced over his shoulder towards the corner where the Winchesters were huddled. Nicki shrank back, her eyes wide with fear, and Dean placed his other arm over top of her. Yeah, he knew he was no match for the spirit, but there was no way in h&*# he was letting him take his daughter without a fight. To his surprise, the ghost just vanished, leaving the three of them alone in the dark.

"He'll be back." Nicki whispered. "He'll be back for me."

"He won't get you."

"No …" she whimpered, shaking her head, "he's gonna kill me … just Ross Braford said."

Resisting the urge to beat whatever living crap was left out of Ross Bradford, Dean tilting Nicki's shin up so he could look her in the eye.

"You listen to me." He said in an even tone. "You are not going to die, because I am not going to let that happen. Sam still has a few more days to find us, and we have done entire hunts in less. No matter what either of those a^$holes say, you are going to be fine. You hear me?"

Nicki nodded, trying to put on a brave face, but her eyes betrayed her. She was terrified and nothing Dean could say or do would change that. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she screamed as a pale, broken, arm latched onto her.

"DAD!" She sobbed, clinging onto him. "Don't let him take me!"

With adrenaline masking his own pain, Dean wrapped his arms around his daughter, fighting against the spirit's pull.

"Leave her alone you son of a b&%$^!" He growled, bracing his feet against the earthen floor for better leverage.

Without releasing his grip on the girl, Beckly reached out and grabbed Dean by the throat, slamming his head against the wall. Dazed, but not deterred, the hunter only tightened his grip. As stubborn as his adversary, Beckley slammed him into the wall two more times, until he could no longer hold on. Slumped against the wall and fighting to stay conscious, Dean could only watch as his little girl was dragged from the room. Her cries and screams grew softer, before silence took there place. And for one delirious minute, Dean thought perhaps he had broken pattern and was killing his daughter.

"N-nooo." He groan, forcing himself to his feet.

He had to stop him … he couldn't loose her … he had already lost too much. Despite his strong desire to break free of his underground prison, the injured hunter couldn't even make it to the door, collapsing in a heap barely halfway across the small room. Tears stung his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He had to stay strong, he had to save Nicki.

"Shh," A soft voice whispered in his ear, sending chills down his spin, "she will live through this. Rest now. Edward will not kill her today. Rest."

Either because of the dizziness, or perhaps some sort of power the voice had over him, Dean felt th world slipping away. But even as he drifted into oblivion he thought he saw someone standing over him. A blink of an eye later, the figure was gone, and darkness claimed him.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

It was getting late before they finally arrived at the cabin. Practically jumping out of the car, Sam took quick a look around. What once had to have been the pride of the builder, was now a two story shack, not unlike the backwoods cabins he and Dean grew up in. The building was dark and old with a rickety front porch and more then one cracked window. Making his way through the muddy underbrush, Sam circled to the back of the Impala, popping the trunk and pulling out a pair of salt filled shotguns and a .45, loaded with iron rounds.

"If they are here, they are more then likely in the cellar." Bobby offered, taking the shotgun Sam held out to him.

The younger hunter nodded in agreement, looking back towards the cabin.

"You check the main house," He stated, "I'll find the cellar."

"You got it," Bobby agreed, double checking his gun, "and Sam?"

Pausing with one hand on the trunk lid and the other on his weapon, Sam looked impatiently at his friend.

"You be careful in there."

"You too." He nodded, slamming the trunk closed.

Circling around he back, Sam quickly found the slightly warped wooden doors, secured by a rusty iron latch. Caring more about finding his family they staying hidden, he pounded the latch with the but of his gun until it finally ave way, and he slipped inside.

"Dean?" He called into the shadows, but got no answer.

Flipping on his flashlight, he shined the beam around the tiny room. Old jars lined the shelves, a broken barrel sat in the corner, and a few random boxes were stacked along the far wall. No Dean, no Nicki. Hoping that bobby had more luck, Sam climbed out of the cellar and entered the main part of the house.

"Bobby?" He half shouted, scaring a couple of rats in the corner.

"Right here." The old hunter sighed, climbing down the stairs.

He gave Sam an apologetic look and adjusted his ball cap. Nodding slightly, Sam hung his head in disappointment. Another dead end.

"Okay … uh …" Sam muttered, looking around the dusty cabin. "There has to be something we missed somewhere … another cabin or shed or something …"

"We'll find 'em." Bobby promised.

But where? Was there any place left to look? There had to be another clue.

"Bobby, let me see Beckly's journal." He said, leaning his gun against the wall.

Pulling the tattered book out of his pocket, Bobby handed it over, getting a muttered thanks from Sam. It there was a clue to where Beckly was, his little brother was their best shot at finding it. The second he opened the cover, a shrill sound broke the silence. Sam quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out an EMF reader, which was lit up like a Christmas tree. Snatching up his shot gun, Sam and Bobby prepared themselves. Dean and Nicki may not have been there, but that didn't mean someone else wasn't.

* * *

So, I altered the ending from my original plan. (And this was the beginning of the end for Edward, but we are not there yet.)

Let me know what you think so far and I WILL get started on the next one RIGHT away. (I have a bit of a schedule I am trying to keep with this series and I may end up having to post more then once per day to keep up. Hope you don't mind.)


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the late post, but I didn't have internet most of the last 48 hours. Anyway, better late then never, right?

Also, since I altered the ending (or at least how I planned it) things are going to get a bit more complicated and a whole lot more interesting. So if things seem a little screwy, please bear with me, it will all work out in the end.

As always, enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 16**

Sam crept through the cabin, his shotgun sweeping the room as he looked for the source of the EMF.

"Show yourself Beckly, you b%s^a#d!" He shouted.

"Sam." Bobby said, pointing his gun to the far corner.

The younger hunter swiveled around, but was surprised by what he saw. Half hidden behind a moth-eaten armchair, was a skinny old man. Pale as death, he apparition stared at the hunters with wide eyes, trembling in fear.

"End me." He whimpered. "Please, end me."

Sam gaped at the man, casting a sideways glance at Bobby. What were the odds of finding a haunted cabin while on another hunt?

"Please!" He begged stepping around the chair. "Relieve my suffering and end me."

Thoroughly confused and really wanting to return to the hunt, Sam looked to Bobby to placate the frantic ghost.

"Okay," he started slowly, "how did you die?"

"I died as an old man because I could not die as a young man."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, more confused then ever.

"I outlived the day I should have died by nearly fifty years."

"And what day was that?" Bobby questioned.

"A black day." The ghost responded, his eyes filing with tears. "The day I lost my family."

"Ah," Bobby nodded sympathetically, "sorry to hear about that, but it should be easy to help you."

"Really?" The man's eyes lit up with a hope that, based on his turn of the century attire, he probably hadn't felt in a hundred years.

"Sure," Bobby assured him, "just tell me where you are buried?."

"I am interned at the Maple Grove Cemetery in Queens, New York." He answered eagerly.

"Okay," Bobby nodded, "next time I'm in New York, I'll put you to rest."

The old man's face fell, becoming a mix of fear and despair.

"No! You must do it tonight!"He shrieked. "Please! I can not go through another dawn! Please end my suffering! End ME!"

Sam and Bobby shared a what-the-h&^% look. Since when did ghosts track down hunters WANTING to be put down? In any case, they didn't have time for this. Dean and Nicki only had a few days left to live and, suicidal ghost or not, there was no way he was taking the time to drive to Queens.

"Look," Sam said firmly, "we're-"

"On a hunt." The ghost finished. "I know … that's why … please end me!"

Sam narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his shotgun.

"What do you know?" He demanded, his voice low and hard.

The spirit's eyes filled with tears and he slunk back to the corner.

"Please," he begged, "just end me."

With that, he vanished.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean woke up to something dripping on his face. Opening his eyes, rage flowed through him as he saw Beckly dragging his daughter to the corner he had taken her from. She was limp and soaking wet, her long blond hair hanging so low that it almost touched the floor.

"Get away from her." Dean seethed, forcing himself to his knees.

He was still dizzy, and slightly nauseous, but he wasn't going to let that keep him from his little girl. The ghost dropped her to the floor, looked at Dean, and disappeared. As soon as she hit the floor, Nicki immediately went into a coughing fit, before curling into a ball.

"Nicki?" Dean asked, making his way over to her.

"D-dad?" She looked up at him, pale and trembling. "Y-you ok-kay?"

Dean let out a humorless laugh, leaning against the wall and pulling her up so her side was against his chest. He brushed back her damp hair in the same motion that had calmed Sam a hundred times before it.

"Don't worry about me." He whispered.

Now it was Nicki's turn to let out a humorless laugh, but her's sounded more like a cough and Dean tightened his embrace. First a horsewhip, then a beating, now dunking? He didn't even want to think about what else Beckly had in store for the kid. Rubbing his hands up and down her shivering arms, Dean attempted to warm her up as best he could, but only a few minutes later she was snatched away from him as Beckley dragged him towards the door.

"D-dad!" Nicki gasped, reaching out for him.

"Nicki stay there!" Dean ordered.

He was barely recovered from getting slammed into the wall, he wasn't going to let the same thing happen to Nicki.

"No!" She cried, trying to get up. "Dad!"

For whatever reason, Beckly didn't pay any attention to the screaming teen and continued to pull Dean to the door. Once there, the hunter suddenly found himself back in the torture chamber. Beckly threw him onto a wooden table, were thick leather straps instantly wrapped themselves around him. Dean pulled against the bonds, but they didn't budge an inch.

"So now what?" He asked, sarcastically. "Is this the part when you break into a monologue about your plan for world domination or are you just going to go back to your crazy ranting?"

Beckley didn't seem to hear him as he scanned the table of arbitraments and selected a small wooden club that looked like the end of a broomstick.

"Confess your crimes." The ghost ordered, circling the table until he was standing at Dean's feet.

"Or we could just do this again." Dean shrugged. "But I gotta say, you are starting to sound like a broken record."

Beckly shot him a dark glare and brought the club down hard against Dean's unprotected soles. He bit his lip against the pain, focusing on his breathing just like his dad taught him.

"Anyone ever tell you, you hit like a girl?"

"Confess your crimes!" He repeated, striking Dean's feet again.

"Getting laid ain't a crime."

"Denial!" Beckly shouted, swinging the club with all his might. Confess your crimes!"

Dean was getting so sick of this. Even if he did say that what he did was wrong, it wouldn't change anything. And every day this sick b^s$a*d was around was one more day his daughter would suffer.

"You know, why don't you confess your crimes?" Dean challenged, his voice dripping with venom. "You are you too busy drowning little girls?"

Beckly was taken aback … for about ten seconds. After that Dean was sure that if he could have turned red he would have.

"I committed no crimes!" He shouted, practically shaking with fury.

"Oh, NOW who's in denial?"

"I saved them." Beckly hissed. "I redeemed there souls and protected their good names."

"You murdered them!" Dean shot back.

With a cry of rage, Beckly went back to beating the hunter's feet, continuing to demand that he confess. Dean grit his teeth, trying to block out the pain. If Sam didn't find them soon … he couldn't even think about it.

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Sam slammed his laptop shut in frustration and leaned his head against the back of the seat. How many hours had they wasted checking out this dead end? How much had Beckly done to Dean or Nicki in tat time? He tried not to think about it and rested his head on the window.

"I take it you didn't have much luck." Bobby muttered from behind the wheel.

"Nope." Sam sighed. "The only death I could find at that cabin was 1853, and that was a woman who died in childbirth."

Who was that and what did he know about Beckly? Did spirits talk to one another, or had Becky killed his family. Unless he showed up again, there was no way to be sure, since the only detail they knew about him was what cemetery he was buried in. It would take days to check out all the old men buried in Maple Grove, days they didn't have.

"We'll find them, Sam."

He nodded slightly, staring out into the sunset. Another day gone, another day closer to his family's death. How was he going to find them? How was he going to stop Beckley from killing again? There were way to many questions and no where near enough answers. He just prayed that they would would make it in time. Suddenly, he realized that the Impala was slowing down and moving into the exit lane.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, looking down at the map.

"There's a diner about about two miles up the road."

"Bobby, we don't have time to-"

"Boy, you have been going non-stop for almost three days." Bobby snapped. "and I am NOT dealing with your brother if you faint five minutes after you find him. You are going to eat."

Slouching in his seat, Sam stared out the window as Bobby pulling into the parking lot. He didn't feel like eating, not when Dean and Nicki were still in the hands of a century old serial killer, but Bobby was right about one thing. If he didn't eat, Dean was gonna kick his a^$.

"You coming?" Bobby asked, climbing out of the car.

Following the older hunter into the diner, Sam took a look around the restaurant. A few truckers were sipping coffee along the counter, a young couple were busy trying to keep there toddler from pouring salt all over the table in the corner, and a group of college age kids were enjoying a few beers in one of the booths. Selecting a booth and ordering coffees from the waitress, the hunters had barely started looking over the menus when one of the college kids shouted at another.

"You are so full of it, Mike!"

"I don't care what you say!" Another exclaimed. "I'm telling you, that hospital is haunted!"

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was there anyplace in this entire freaking state that wasn't haunted? Any why did all the ghost start coming out the day after Dean gets taken? His life sucked.

"Well, I believe you, Mike." A girls voice joined the others.

"Of course you believe your BOYFRIEND over your own TWIN, Amy." The first guy groaned.

"That's not why, you jerk." Amy insisted. "Don't you remember Aunt Janet was a nurse there back in '82 and she said she heard the same screaming coming from the same room."

Wait, Sam looked over at the other booth, did she just say '82? He exchanged glances and continued to listen.

"See?" Mike stated, triumphantly. "I asked one of the nurses that has been there a while and she said the ghost shows up for a month ever twenty four years."

Sam caught his breath. If this ghost appears ever twenty-four year, that coincided with the other murders.

"Do you think Beckley could he be killing them in a hospital?" Sam asked.

"Maybe." Bobby answered. "But even if he's not, this is to close to be a coincidence."

Sam nodded and headed over to the other booth.

"Hi." he said with his most trusting smile as three pairs of blue eyes looked his way. "Sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing. Did you say you know of a haunted hospital?"

"Yup, down in Milledgeville." Mike answered. "I was just there visiting my gran and man, did that thing freak me out."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, trying to just sound casually interested. "What did it do?"

"Why do you want to know?" The other guy asked, eying the hunter suspiciosly.

"Lighten up, Jeff." Amy groaned, running her fingers through her long brown hair. "He is OBVIOUSLY just more open minded about it then SOME people."

After smiling at his girlfriend, the blond haired kid turned back to Sam, clearly eager to tell his story.

"They say a patient died there, like, a hundred years ago and every twenty-four years he tries to break out. He yells and screams, bangs on the walls, but he can't leave his room."

"That's so dumb," Jeff scoffed, taking a swing of his beer. "Why every twenty-four years? Why only for the end of March and early April? If you ask me, I think the staff made the whole thing up."

"They why has it been happening for a hundred years?" Amy challenged.

"I don't know, maybe when the people who are doing it teach the next generation, like an apprenticeship thing."

"Seriously?" Mike gave his friend a weird look. "You think the idea ghosts are crazy, but you are ready to believe there is a secret society among the nurses? Get real."

"This from the guy who spent a whole summer looking for area 51."

"Hey, that is real …"

While they launched into a new debate, Sam slipped back into his booth and relayed his findings to Bobby.

"Well," the older hunter scratched the back of his neck, "could be just a garden variety haunting."

"At the exact same time as Beckly's killing sprees?" Sam pointed out.

Bobby sighed and nodded.

"Right … I'll get the food to go."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~**

As Dean leaned against the wall, gently stroking Nicki's arm with his thumb, he started to wonder how much time had passed. He had been taken twice, which said it had to be at least day two, and Nicki was taken three times, but what day had she been taken? More concerning was the low grade fever that he felt radiating from her skin. Must have caught something when he dunked her. At least she was sleeping, the more she was out of pain the better.

"Ah, Sam," Dean mumbled, leaning his head back against the earthen wall, "you better hurry your a*$ up and get us out of here."

"He is trying." A voice whispered. "Do not lose hope."

Dean's eye snapped open as he looked around the small room, but it was just the tree of them."

"Shh, rest now." The voice called softy. "Rest, you will need your strength."

"Who are you?" Dean growled. "Show yourself."

His eyes scanned the shadows before falling on a pale figure in the far corner, opposite of were Ross was passed out. The apparition locked eyes with the hunter, a sad smile on his bruised face.

"Rest." He repeated. "It will all be over soon."

Dean stared at the familiar figure, his eyes wide. Part of him couldn't believe who he was seeing, but it made perfect sense that he would be here.

"Thomas Beckly?"

* * *

Now isn't that an awesome way to end this chapter? ;)

I plan to have the next part up tomorrow night, but if I get a bunch of review in the next several hours, it might be sooner. (Seriously, when I get reviews asking for more I am like "I need to write, people want more, I must write fast!" ... then my family tells me to live in reality ... eh, reality is overrated. :) )


	17. Chapter 17

This chapter is mostly for background of the Becklys, but I hope you like it anyway.

Enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 17**

Dean studied the spirit, noticing how much the brothers looked alike. Though dulled by death, he could imagine the lively eyes, brushed back fair hair, and straight posture. Thomas Beckly was once a classic gentleman, but now he was nothing more then a bruised and broken spirit.

"You are stronger then the others." Thomas commented, cocking his head. "Perhaps it is because you are not fighting for yourself?"

The ghost's eyes lowered to where Nicki was sleeping against Dean's chest.

"She is very beautiful." Thomas smiled. "Reminds me of my sweet Anna."

The spirits eyes grew sad as he faded away, his voice echoing around the room.

"Dearest Anna … how I miss you, my love."

"Hey!" Dean called in a harsh whisper. "This ain't no soap opera, now get your paranormal a#$ back here and tell me what you know before I hunt it down."

Surprisingly, Thomas reappeared in the same corner, studying Dean with an almost amused expression.

"Strong and stubborn." He stated. "Oh, how you remind me of my little brother."

Oh, he did NOT just say that. Dean shot a dark glare at the older Beckly, wishing he had some salt handy.

"I am NOTHING like-"

"No, no, not Edward." Thomas assured him, gesturing upstairs. "I was meaning Nathan. He always sought justice, always looked after those less fortunate then himself. I was actually considering asking for his help with the railroad before … well … it did not happen."

The spirit sighed, tracing a dark bruise on his forearm.

"Railroad? So you were a-"

"Sympathizer? Yes." Thomas smiled sadly. "We all were … all nine of us."

"Nine?" Dean gave him a puzzled look. "I thought there were only six."

"No, Edward killed six." Thomas corrected. "He did not know about Walter and Christabel, but was going after Isssac the night Nathan stopped him … or at least … the night he tried to. My poor brothers."

"Please tell me you are talking about Nathan and Lewis." Dean grumbled, "because I'm wasting any sympathy on that psychotic b^s$a#d upstairs."

"However insane he is, Edward is still my brother." Thomas said firmly. "Would you turn against your brother if he killed a man?"

Dean paused, thinking back to all the things they hunted. Sam had taken out his share of people, but not once had he murdered anyone. And if he did? Well … they probably would have deserved it.

"You see what I mean? You can not turn you back on your younger brother anymore then I can turn my back on mine." Thomas looked towards the ceiling. "Rest now, Mr. Winchester. This will all end son, one way or another."

With that he vanished, but Dean had a feeling the ghost had not gone far.

**~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

As they neared the hospital, Sam glanced into the passenger seat to see what Bobby had dug up on the newest haunting.

"Okay," Bobby said, looking over the web page. "The hospital was opened in 1842 and was originally called, get this, the State Asylum for the Insane."

"Sounds like a nice place." Sam said dryly, keeping an eye out for his exit.

"It gets better." Bobby continued. "I thought the name sounded familiar so I did some checking. Guess were Nathan Beckly was sent after he killed Edward?"

"No way."

"Yup, he was admitted to the asylum in 1862, just weeks after he murdered Edward."

"Think he's the ghost?" Sam questioned, pulling up to the hospital.

"Only one way to find out."

Disguising himself as an orderly, Sam slipped up the stairs while Bobby distracted the nurse. Once he was at the third floor, he started checking rooms, wondering which way 318 was. Suddenly a frustrated scream echoed down the hall followed by a banging sound.

"That must be it." He muttered to himself, rushing towards the sounds.

As soon as he stepped into the empty room, the temperature plummeted.

"Let me out!" A disembodied voice hissed. "I must get out!"

Noticing this ghost was far more agitated then the last one he encountered, Sam reached into his pocked for his salt shaker. He would have felt better with a gun, but that wasn't always a good idea in a hospital, so he would have to settle for a low key approach.

"Nathan Beckly?"

A man appeared by the window. He looked to be in his late 30's with unkempt blond hair and dull blue eyes. He was dressed in simple clothing of the 1880's and had a desperate look on his pale face.

"I must get out of here." Nathan stated, fearfully. "Let me out!"

"Calm down, it's okay-"

"Do not tell me calm down." Nathan snapped. "You of all people should know how urgent my need is. I must get out."

"Why do you have to get out?" Sam questioned, trying not to antagonize him.

"I must stop him." Nathan said, looking out the window. "I must not let him kill again."

"Edward?"

"Of course Edward." Nathan turned on him. "For over a hundred years I have been trapped within these walls while my brother is spilling the blood of innocents. Now he has taken his youngest child yet and I will d^&%ed if I let him take her life. Now LET ME OUT."

Sam took a deep breath, daring to hope that he may have just found a way to save Dean and Nicki.

"If I get you out of here, can you stop Edward."

"Yes," Nathan said firmly, "but I will required assistance."

"What do you need?"

Nathan looked him straight in the eye, and instead of the rage he expected, all Sam saw was pain as the ghost whispered the answer.

"My brothers."

**~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean woke to the same scene as the day before, Beckly dragging a sobbing Ross from the room while Nicki clung to him in fear. There had to be a way to keep Nicki from being taken when he came back, but how? He was quickly shaken from these thoughts however, when Nicki started a round of harsh coughing.

"You okay?" He asked, as she quieted down.

"I'll be okay." She whispered, her voice a bit raspy.

Slipping out from behind her, Dean headed over to the water barrel by the door. It probably wasn't the most sanitary, but it was the best he could do. Dipping in the tin cup that hung on a rusty nail, Dean rinsed it out as best he could before binging it over to his daughter.

"Thanks Dad." She said, sipping the cool liquid.

"No problem, you just get some sleep."

She nodded, her eyelids already starting to droop, and Dean eased her down until she was stretched out against the wall.

"Watch over her," a familiar voice called softly, "she is not doing well."

"No s#*&, Sherlock." Dean snapped. "Why don't you go tell that to that sadistic brother of yours before he makes it worse."

"I have tried." Thomas said sadly, appearing next to them. "So often have I tried, but Edward believes that I am only a hallucination."

Dean gave the spirit a strange look.

"Really? A ghost thinks YOU are a hallucination."

"I was as surprised as you are."

Dean shook his head and returned his attention to his daughter, just a a blood curdling scream came from upstairs.

"Burning. Branding." Thomas muttered. "Edward always was harsh with his lessons."

Dean shuttered to think what Nicki was going to have to endure. Brushing his hand across her forehead, he cursed under his breath. Her fever was getting worse.

"Do not fear for your daughter." Thomas assured him, resting an icy hand on his shoulder. "Your brother is on the right trail, he will find you before it is too late for her."

"What do you know about my brother?"

Thomas opened his mouth as another scream rang out overhead.

"He has found mine."

And he disappeared, just as Edward showed up. The ghost dropped the limp and whimpering man on the floor and looked toward where Nicki was sleeping.

"You stay the h^%& away from her." Dean growled, placing himself between his daughter and the ghost.

Beckly just sneered at him and vanished. Dean turned back to his little girl, who had started to moan in her sleep.

"Don't worry, Nicki." He whispered, dripping some cold water on her forehead. "You're going to be okay."

He would make sure of that.

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

"You sure this will work, Bobby?" Sam asked, carrying the grocery bag out of the organic food store.

It bad enough that they had to wait until morning, but it had taken then four hours and three different stores to find all the ingredients for the spell Bobby found. Even then, they were still a long way away from being ready and Dean and Nicki didn't have much time.

"No I'm not." Bobby admitted. "But unless we knew where Edward Beckly was hiding, this is our best shot."

Sam sighed and nodded. He really didn't like this plan, releasing a ghost to potentially start a free reign of terror wasn't exactly look highly upon in the hunting community, but if it would help Dean he was willing to give it a try. He was just about to open the car door when he caught the reflection of someone standing right behind him. Dropping his bag, while simultaneously reaching for his gun, Sam turned … and groaned.

"End me!" The old man begged. "PLEASE!"

"Oh, for crying out loud." Sam grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "We will get to you when we get to you. Not. Now."

"But it MUST be now!" He cried, wringing his pale hands. "Please end me!

"Trust me." Sam said, as calmly as he could manage, "I would like nothing more then to end you, but I just don't have time."

"You don't understand," the ghost sobbed, "you must end me NOW. Please! Just end me!"

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and picked up his bag off the ground. Words could not express how much he would love to get rid of the annoying apparition, but he had more important things to do then drive to New York just to satisfy a depressed ghost.

"There are only a few hours left of sunlight!" The ghost cried, clinging on to Sam's jacket. "End me now! PLEASE! I beg you, do not let me see another dawn."

"Look," Bobby stepped over, iron bar in hand, "we can't end ya right now. But if you don't let him go, I will make ya disappear."

Eying the bar nervously, the ghost released Sam and moved back.

"You do not know the suffering you are forcing me to endure." He sobbed. "I can not bear it for another day."

Suddenly he cried out and dropped to his knees, sobbing into his hands.

"God forgive me … please forgive me." The old man whispered, and vanished into thin air.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean pounded against the rough wooden door until his hands bled. His daughters screams were tearing into him worse then anything the sadistic ghost could do to him.

"LEAVE HER ALONE YOU B^S%A*D!" He shouted, not knowing if Beckly could even hear him. "SON OF A B^&%$! I'M GONNA F&%^ING KILL YOU!"

"Save your strength." Thomas's voice whispered.

"Like h^%&!" He growled back, banging against the door.

"You can't break it." Thomas continued calmly, sitting next to the water barrel.

"Screw you!" Dean shot back, jamming his shoulder against he door.

"Edward reinforced it with several strong beams."

"Screw him too!"

"You are just going to hurt yourself." Thomas said gently, his face full of concern. "Please sit down. You will do your daughter no good if you beat yourself senseless."

Ignoring the spirit, Dean kept beating and cursing at the door until Nicki's screams stopped. He backed away from the door, to prepare for Beckley to bring her back, and noticed that Thomas was gone. Suddenly, Beckly was right in front of him, holding Nicki under one arm.

"Put her down." Dean ordered. "NOW!"

With a slight smirk, he dropped her to the ground and disappeared.

"Nicki?" He whispered dropping to her side.

She whimpered, pulling her arm to her chest. He sucked in his breath when he saw the angry red blisters running down her forearm.

"Here," Thomas said, appearing next to him. "Allow me."

The ghost gently picked her up and laying her by the wall. Sitting next to her, Thomas pushed up his sleeves, resting his hands and arms across her forehead and neck.

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded, limping over to them.

With the adrenaline ebbing away, his feet were starting to hurt like a b^&$#, but that wasn't going to stop him from checking in his daughter.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Winchester." Thomas murmured. "I am dead, which means I am cold. You have no other way to cool her fever."

He had a point, Dean thought to himself, kneeling at Nicki's side.

"Edward will return for you soon." Thomas stated. "I will watch over her until you return."

"Why are you helping me?"

Thomas turned, his expression completely serious.

"Because I take of people, Mr Winchester. It is what I do, it is what I have always done, and it is why I can not move on."

Dean gave him a puzzled look.

"What the h&%* are you talking about?"

Thomas returned his attention to Nicki, moving one hand under her neck and the other to her cheek.

"My brothers are not at rest, so I am not either."

"You mean Edward?"

"I mean my brothers." Thomas repeated. "Edward, Nathan, Lewis … I will not rest until they are all at peace … and they will exist as long as I do."

"You mean …"

Thomas locked his cold dead eyes with Dean's, and the hunter could see the fierce protectiveness that probably reflected in his own eyes.

"None of us can be destroyed as long as the others exist."

"So how are we going to stop Edward?"

"There is one way, but it depends on your brother."

Thomas rested on his heels and looked to the door, his face a mix of fear, sorrow and frustration.

"Edward is coming," he stated, "I must go."

"Wait-"

"It does no good for him to see me." He explained. "I will return as soon as he is gone to look after your daughter."

Before Dean could even open his mouth, Thomas was gone.

"What about Sam?" He called into the silence. "What does he have to do?"

With a voice as soft and gentle as the rain, he got his answer.

"The only way to stop Edward, is for your brother to learn to listen."

* * *

So, what do you guys think of Thomas? Kinda gives Casper a run for his money with the "friendly ghost" title huh?

Anyway, sorry for the late post. I will try to get the next one up around lunchtime tomorrow. (Oregon time)


	18. Chapter 18

So here's what happened. I finished that last chapter and wanted to get started on this one, so I did. After I finished about half of it, I thought I should try to sleep. When that didn't work, I figured I should write I bit more, so I finished it. Yay insomnia! ;)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and ignore any spelling a grammar issues caused by my sleep deprived state.

Here ya go ...

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Sam heaved the duffel out of the Impala's trunk, looking up at the large plantation house.

"The cemetery is this way, Bobby." He called over his shoulder, walking down the path.

The last time he had been here, Nicki was perched on the top of a headstone, standing guard while she wrote a ridiculous paper for school. God, he hoped she was okay.

"Which ones?" Bobby asked, as he scanned the graveyard.

Sam motioned over to a row of marble pillars, that shone like gold in the fading light.

"Ah!" They heard a voice cry.

Turning to see the old man was back, Sam raised his shotgun and fired. The man disintegrate instantly, and the hunters made it the rest of the way in peace.

"D^&% it." Sam growled, when he reached the pillars.

"What?"

He pointed to the names carved in each stone; Jacob, Thomas, Edward, William, Uriah, Daniel, and Nathan. Three brothers, their father, uncle, and two cousins. Lewis wasn't there.

"Do you think Nathan can do whatever he has to do with just Thomas and Edward?" Sam questioned.

"How the h%$^ should I know?" Bobby half shouted. "But we don't have any other choice. Unless we can find another way to get his brothers in one place, this is the only way."

Nodding in agreement, Sam started to place candles around each of the three brothers' graves, while Bobby made a circle of herbs and oils at the base of each headstone.

"One the spell is started, he will only have less than sixty seconds to do whatever he needs to do." Bobby informed the younger hunter.

"It will have to be enough." Sam sighed, finishing the last of the set up. "You ready?"

"You have to ask?" Bobby grumbled, pulling out a leather book.

One he received the signal, Sam lite the three circles on fire and stepped back while Bobby chanted. Soon after the flames turned green, grew to be almost three feet high, and the image of each ghost appeared in their respective circles.

"What trickery is this?" Edward growled, rising a mangled arm to point at Sam. "You dare interrupt my work?"

"Leave him be, Edward." Thomas ordered, unable to reach over the ring of fire to control his brother. "He is not a sympathizer."

"But he is." The younger Beckly insisted. "And I must teach him through his brother's example. Association with n*g&e%s only leads to death."

Sam saw red and took a step towards the graves, Bobby's arm being the only thing that kept him from charging through the fire and breaking Edward's other arm.

"You stay the h^%& away from him!" Sam seethed.  
"I see he has already corrupted you." Edward said in a sympathetic tone.

Sam was just wondering how badly green flames would burn him, when Bobby locked his arms around him, whispering in his ear about how important it was not to break the spell prematurely.

"Hold your tongue, Edward," Nathan snapped, clearly ticked off that he couldn't leave the circle. "The only corrupt man in this place is you."

"I am no more corrupt now, then I was the night YOU broke my neck." Edward shot back.

"Despite the fact that breaking you neck was an accident," Nathan's voice became hard, "the only reason I was fought you that night was because you were CORRUPT."

"Nathan, please." Thomas said in a calming tone. "That is not helping."

"I'm sorry, Thomas, but I have to stop him."

"You can not stop me." Edward scoffed, lifting up his broken arm. "Despite you previous attempts, I am stronger then ever. And I will save them from shame and death. I will redeem them."

"You bring them shame and death!" Nathan shouted. "You will murder them!"

"Nathan, be quiet!" Thomas hissed.

"Who are you to accuse ME of bringing shame and death?" Edward yelled back. "What is a greater shame then taking ones own life?"

"Edward!" Thomas cried, as Nathan's face fell. "Enough!"

The fire started to burn down and Thomas looked to Sam.

"Mr. Winchester, I hope you know this will not stop him."

What did he mean? This plan was doomed to fail? Dean and Nicki had to live through another day of torture? No, this had to work.

"No!" He shook his head. "Nathan, you said you could stop him."

Nathan turned away from Edward and gave him a determined look.

"I can," he stated, "I only need my brothers."

Now the flames were so low that they were little more then embers. Time was almost up!

"How am I supposed to find Lewis?" Sam called back. "He ran away."

"You can," Thomas assured him, as he grew more and more transparent, "you need only learn to listen."

"Listen to what?" Sam asked.

But received no answer as the fires burned out and the spirits vanished.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean gasped for breath as Beckly pulled his head out of the wash basin. No matter how much training you have on holding your breath, everyone has heir limits.

"Confess your crimes." The ghost growled.

"Bite me." Dean spat.

He only had a second to get as much air as he could before he was submerged again. How many times was he going to do this? He had already refilled the freaking bucket twice! The pain in his lungs continued to grow as they begged for air. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Beckley yanked him out and dropped him on the floor.

"Perhaps tomorrow, you will change your mind." He sneered, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him to the door.

"Yeah?" Dean coughed. "Or perhaps tomorrow I'll kick your a&$."

Beckly just glared and a second later they were back in the cellar where he tossed Dean against the wall, nearly on top of Nicki. Looking over his shoulder, Beckly gave Ross an blank stare and disappeared.

"What was that about." Dean grumbled, knowing the friendly ghost was not far.

But the soft voice wasn't the one who answered him.

"What was what about?"

He looked down to see a pair of pain filled green eyes staring back at him.

"Hey, how long have you been up?" He asked, checking her forehead.

"I'm okay, Da-" She cut off as her five foot frame was wracked with another round of coughing.

S#*%, her fever wasn't get any better, and based on the the sound of that cough … Sam better get here soon before one of Beckly's "lessons" kills her. Pulling himself over to the water barrel, Dean filled the cup and brought it back to his daughter.

"Thanks." She gasped, after drinking half the cup. "Want any?"

"Nah," Dean held up his hand, "I think I've had enough water today, trust me."

She brushed a few drops of water off his hair and grimaced.

"I can see that."

After finishing off her water, Nicki snuggled into Dean's side, nestled under his arm.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"If I don't make it-"

"Whoa! Where did this come from?" Dean stared at his daughter. "No one is dieing here, especially not you."

"But … I only got three days left …" her eyes filled with tears, "what if Uncle Sam doesn't …"

Dean wrapped his arms around her and gently rubbed her back.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay." He soothed. "Sam will find us … he always does."

Just as she started to relax, Beckly came back. Stiffening, Dean tightening his grip on Nicki. He didn't know why the ghost was back, but it couldn't be good.

"What is it?" Nicki asked.

She turned enough to see Beckly and gasped, pressing into his side.

"Shh." Dean whispered. "He won't get you again."

Beckly however didn't even seem to notice them, instead squatted down in front of Ross. The beaten man opened his eyes, flinching back.

"No … please … no more …" He begged, shrinking back against the wall. "Please."

"Relax." Beckly said in the most gentle voice they had heard from him yet. "Just rest now."

He ran his hands over Ross' bruised arms and face in a soothing motion.

"Sleep, my brother," he whispered, "when you wake up it will all be over."

Moments later, Beckly was gone. Dean looked over Ross, but he just appeared to be confused

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Um .. yeah .. I feel fine." Ross answered, looking down at his arms. "He just … touched me."

"That sounds vaguely dirty." Nicki grumbled, before breaking into another coughing fit.

"Yeah, well, get some sleep while you can."

Ross nodded, still staring at his fingers while Nicki yawned in agreement. While they slept, Dean lay awake, wondering what Beckly's fourth visit was for, and listening to the sounds of his daughters breathing … but but something sounded off. Dean held his breath and listened as Nicki wheezed in and out. As crappy as it sounded, she seemed okay. So what was-

"Oh … d^&% it." He murmured.

He turned slightly to look across the room, waking Nicki.

"Dad?" She asked, trying to see what he did.

Dean placed his hand on the side of her head, holding it to his chest.

"Go back to sleep." He ordered.

Nicki stiffened and curled tighter against his side.

"Um … a-alright." She replied, her voice small and scared.

"It's okay." He whispered, after feeling a shiver run through his little girl. "I won't let him get you too."

Fearful tears dripped against Dean's chest, while he rubbed her back in an attempt to sooth her quiet sobs, but kept on hand on her head at all times. The last thing she needed to see were Ross Bradford's cold, lifeless, eyes staring back at her. They may have been too late for him, but there was no way in h&^* he was going to let the b#s^a&d take Nicki. He would die first.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Returning to their hotel room, Sam dropped their duffel at the foot of his bed and sat dow, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Half their allotted time was already gone and all their leads were busted. Their only hope was finding Lewis, but the only clue they had was the journal. According to the last entry, he was near the ocean at the time of his death. Like THAT was any help.

"Ah h^&%." Bobby grumbled.

Sam looked up and groaned at the sight of the old man, standing just on the other side of the curved salt line that protected the front door. This was getting old.

"Why do you delight in torturing me?" The ghost sobbed. "Why do you bring me to that place and not just end me?"

"Because your bones are too far away to burn." Sam snapped, completely fed up with the old man.

"No," he sniffed, "that will not end me."

"What are you talking about?" Sam wondered aloud. "And how are you even here?"

"I can not be laid to rest easily, for I have committed the greatest of crimes." He wailed. "I killed my own brothers!"

Well that was either an eery coincidence or …

"How are you here?" Sam repeated, pushing himself to his feet.

"I must follow you."

"Yeah, but why us?"

"Because you carry my life in your pocket."

Sam pulled a leather object out of his pocket and his jaw dropped. How could he be so blind?

"You are …" the young hunter gaped. "… You're Lewis Beckley?"

* * *

So, I was going to leave you with Ross' death (BTW, I hope no one was too attached to him), but thought I should let you know the identity of the "suicidal ghost". (Did anyone see THAT coming?)

Well, I should probably attempt sleep again. (It is 5:30am, after all.) Please review and I will write more when I wake up.


	19. Chapter 19

So, are you guys liking this whole "daily update" thing with the WK series? Sorry if some of the updates come so late, or at least, late for where I live. Unfortunately, I can't turn off real life during the day. ;)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ...

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Sam stared at the ghost in shock.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Lewis Beckly."

"You asked me when I died." Lewis replied softly. "You did not ask for my name."

While Sam wanted to shoot him full of rock salt on principle alone, Bobby stepped forward before he could get his gun.

"We talked to your brothers."

"M-my … brothers?" Lewis whimpered, tears filling his eyes.

The spirit turned away, moving farther into the corner by the door.

"Which one?" He whispered. "Which one did you … did you see?"

"All of them." Sam answered, watching the way Lewis shoulders drooped.

"So … it is true … I failed again." The ghost spoke softly. "Lord, will my suffering know no end?"

As Lewis wept quietly, Sam began to wonder about his last days. The report he had come across during his research said the man had a heart attack, but something in his eyes told him that might not have been the case.

"Learn to listen." Sam murmured Thomas' last words to him.

Looking down at the journal in his hands, Sam flipped to the last entry. Maybe if he could understand how Lewis, he would learn how to help Dean.

_March 17th, 1913_

_It was fifty years ago that I destroyed my family. Fifty years ago that I killed my brothers. Fifty years ago that I should have died. Oh Lord, I can not bear this guilt another day. Take me now, for I will not let myself reach year fifty one._

Sam looked from the scribbled texts to the distraught man who wrote it, before grabbing a report off the table and studying Nathan's date of death.

"You are bound to each other, aren't you?" He exclaimed.

The ghost timidly turned his way, peering at him with wide blue eyes, and nodded.

"It all makes sense now." Sam breathed.

Thomas tried to take care of everyone, including slaves, and Edward murdered him for it. In his anger over Thomas, Nathan confronted Edward and accidentally killed him. After the second set of murders, Nathan realized he couldn't stop his brother and commits suicide. And Lewis … after fifty years he couldn't live with the guilt any longer and took his own life. Since they were all connected, the only way for them to be taken out is if they are all put to rest. They all wanted rest, but they were all keeping each other around. The only question was … how do you take out four ghosts simultaneously? Well, Thomas told him to listen, and there was only one person who might know …

"Lewis?" Sam asked gently.

"Yes?"

"How can Nathan stop Edward?"

"Well," Lewis sniffed, "his mission in death was to stop him, so it is the only way he can rest … but it won't work."

"Why not?" Bobby questioned.

"Because of Thomas." He responded sadly, "Thomas connects us all. If he survives, Nathan survives. If Nathan survives, Edward survives."

"Can we put Thomas to rest?" Sam wondered.

"I wish we could, but there is only one way and I … I can not do it."

Sam frowned. What was this guy, who spent the last hundred years feeling guilty about his brother's murder, not willing to do to give his brother peace?

"What can't you do?"

"I … I can not face him." Lewis cried.

"That's it?" Sam stared at the spirit. "You just have to face him?"

"Just?" Lewis shrieked. "How could I … after all I have done … he must hate me!"

Sam took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes. How could he convince someone who had been drowning in guilt for a hundred years top just let it go?

"I know how you feel." He ventured.

"Y-you … you d-do?" Lewis half sobbed.

"Yeah, I have a big brother too, and if I caused anything to happen to him … I would never want to forgive myself … but I would, eventually. You know why?"

Lewis just stared at him, wide eyed, at the very edge of the salt line.

"Because," Sam finished, "Dean would always forgive me."

"Really?" Lewis whispered.

"Really." Sam stated confidently. "Sure, he might be pissed for a while, but that never lasts very long."

Sam moved closer to the ghostly old man, speaking calmly and praying that somehow he could get passed his misery to the little brother who just wanted to help.

"Your brothers want to see you." He said with a small smile. "They told me to find you, because they need you."

"But how could they … after all I have done …"

"Because," Sam replied very simply, "they are your brothers."

Lewis' eyes once again filled with tears and he nodded, causing Sam to let out his breath.

"Now all we have to do is find them." Bobby commented.

"No we don't." Lewis stated.

Sam gave him a puzzled look, that he was sure Bobby was mirroring.

"I am connected to Thomas," The ghost explained, "and he is bound to Edward."

"You mean …" Sam started.

Lewis gave them what must have been his first real smile in over a century.

"I know where our brothers are."

Overcome with emotion, Sam lost all rational thought and lunged at the spirit, ready to snap his ghostly neck.

**~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~**

Dean had just fallen asleep when a scratching noise jerked him awake. Looking over, he saw Beckly slinging Ross' body over his shoulder and tightened his grip on Nicki. Based on simple prosses of elimination, Dean had figured out today was the day he planned to beat Nicki to a pulp, and that just wasn't gonna happen.

"Do not worry." Thomas' voice called as soon as his brother left. "Edward will not return for her until after dawn."

"And how long is that?" Dean demanded, looking around for the spirit.

"At lest two hours." Thomas replied, appearing right next to Dean.

He placed a place hand on her forehead, and she flinched at the icy touch.

"Is she getting worse?" Dean asked, adjusting his grip so she would be more comfortable.

"I'm not sure." Thomas admitted. "But I never was much of a doctor. Lewis was the one with the healing touch, it is a shame he never invested in it."

Dean gave him a small nod, but honestly didn't care which of the Becklys could have been a doctor anymore then he cared which one of the Jonas Brothers would become the next Michael Jackson. Right now, the only things he was worried about was how Nicki was doing and where the h^%& Sam was. But there was one other thing that came to mind.

"Where were you last night?"

Thomas looked to the floor, tracing his finger in the dust.

"I was the first to die, in a cellar much like this." He said softly. "Less then a fortnight later, I held my wife as she died in my arms of the same poison Edward used on me."

"Poison?" Dean repeated. "After all the h#*$ he out you through, he killed you with POISON?

"Hemlock," Thomas nodded, "the very same plant used to kill Socrates. The pain he inflicted was to instill fear and make me confess. When I didn't, he decided to make my death painless. Hemlock was a perfect choice since it numbs the body before stopping the heart. Every other murder simply mimicked mine."

"Wow … that sucks."

"I agree," Thomas said sadly, "especially since I have had to witness it over thirty times. First with my wife, then with friends, and finally strangers. Though, no matter how many times he kills, it never gets easier. Feeling it is bad enough, I just … I couldn't watch it again."

"Feeling it?"

Thomas nodded, but continued to draw in the dirt, avoiding eye contact.

"I am connected to my brothers and so they are connected to me." He murmured. "I feel what they feel, I know what they know. They feel what I feel, they know what I know."

"So you know where they are right now?"

"Yes."

Thomas continued to trace the simple shapes on the ground, while Dean waited for him to continue.

"Well?" The hunter asked impatiently.

Thomas was his only link to the outside and was willing to take any information he could get, especially since at least one of the younger brothers had found Sam.

"What? Oh! Um …" Thomas cocked his head, staring off into space. "Edward is dropping off the body at the edge of town … Nathan is pacing his room, waiting for your brother to free him … and Lewis … well, Lewis is hiding behind a salt line, too afraid to try and help, while watching your friend treat a small cut on your brother's head."

"What the h^%& happened to Sam?"

Thomas dropped his gaze to the ground and erased the pictures he had made.

"He hit his head on the door hinge when he attempted to tackle Lewis." He looked up and smiled kindly. "Rest now, this will all be over soon."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, picturing Sam trying to do a flying tackle on a spirit … what an idiot.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~**

Sam leaned his aching head against the window, trying to ignore the chuckling coming from behind the wheel.

"You know, I don't know which one of you is the bigger idjit. You for trying to tackle a ghost, or him from trying to run away." Bobby chortled. "I mean, even if he hadn't stepped back through the wall, you still wouldn't have been able to hurt him."

"Shut up." Sam grumbled, sinking deeper in his seat.

At least Dean hadn't seen it, he would never let him live it down. Thinking about his brother made a knot tighten in his stomach. Beckly had Dean and Nicki for going on five days now. He had read the autopsy reports on the other victims and shuttered to think what condition his family would be in when he found them.

"How long until we reach the cabin?"

"We're almost there." Bobby assured him, all laughter gone from his voice.

Not really caring much about stealth, since bringing Lewis along probably tipped them off anyway, the two hunters pulled right up to the cabin. Jumping out of the car, Sam was ready to charge in and get his family back, when Bobby caught him by the arm.

"Keep your short on." He grumbled. "We still have to summon Nathan."

Looking back at the cabin, Sam fought the urge the brush his friend off and face Beckly on his own, ut he knew he had no chance of beating him without the other spirits.

"Yeah … right." He muttered, grabbing the supplies out of the trunk.

The first rays of dawn broke through the trees, making his job of marking symbols easier.

"So, with this spell, he should be able to move around the area freely," Bobby staid, finding the right page in his book, "after that, the rest is up to them."

Sam nodded and had just finished with the final symbol, when he heard a familiar voice shout from somewhere below him.

"Back off, you son of a b^%&$!"

"Dean!" He cried, gabbing up his shotgun and running into the house.

Sam!" Bobby called after him, but it didn't even slow him down.

The inside of the cabin looked as bad as the outside, with a thick layer of dust coating the broken furniture that scattered the main room. There were two doors to choose from, one open and one boarded up. Sam looked into the first room and his blood began to boil at the site of Beckley's torture chamber, but a cry of pain from below snapped him back to reality and he raced to the second door. A half a dozen two by fours crisscrossed the second door, barring any chance of entry. He heard a third scream, this one from Nicki, and he knew there was only one way to reach them. Quickly pulling the journal out of his pocket, Sam looked around the room.

"Come on, Lewis, I know you are here." He growled. "Show yourself."

Just like before, the old man appeared, half hidden behind a piece of broken furniture.

"I-I … I s-should leave … what if …"

"Lewis, listen to me." Sam snapped, not having the time or patience to deal with him while his family was in danger. "You have to get me into the basement."

"No!" He whispered. "I c-can not … they-"

Sam stepped foreword, almost nose to nose with the ghost.

"Lewis," Sam interrupted, "you always regretted not doing the right thing, now you have a second chance. Do you really want to blow it now?"

Lewis broke eye contact, staring at the dirt covered floor, and Sam prayed his words would stir up whatever courage the spirit had left … Dean and Nicki's lives depended on it.

**~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

Dean pulled himself on top of Nicki for the third time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Let go." Beckly growled.

"Like h#*% I will." Dean shot back.

"Dad, please don't let him take me." Nicki whispered.

"It's okay," he said gently, but firmly, "I won't."

But it appeared Beckly was just as stubborn as he was. Wrapping one iorn hand around the back of Dean's neck and the other around Nicki's arm, he pried the two apart, holding them at arms length on either side.

"You cause so much trouble," Beckly hissed at him, "perhaps I should just kill you here and now."

"No!" Nicki cried. "Dad!"

But just as Beckley started to increased the pressure on his neck, a loud shot rang out, and the ghost disintegrated in a shower of salt. Dropping to the ground, Dean rushed to his fallen daughter's side before looking up to see who his savior was.

"Sam!' He left out a relieved breath, then turned to the pale old man next to him. "Who's that guy?"

"Lewis?" Thomas' voice whispered, as he appeared in his usual corner.

The old man ducked behind Sam, trembling in fear.

"Thomas … I am sorry … please forgive me … oh Thomas, I am so sorry … please forgive me!"

Motioning for Sam to move out of the way, the batter spirit approached his terrified brother and tilted his chin until the were looking in the eye.

"Lewis … I forgave you a long time ago." He smiled. "There is nothing left to forgive, but for you to forgive yourself."

"He is right." A third voice said, as a third sprit entered the room.

"Nathan." Lewis breathed. "How can you forgive me? I killed Thomas."

"You did what you thought was right." Thomas corrected. "How can we hold you at fault for that?"

"Edward's actions were his own." Nathan added, stepping toward his two brothers. "You are blameless, little brother."

"As are you, Nathan." Thomas stated. "Listen to your own words and release the guilt I now you hold."

"B-but …" Nathan stammered, staring at his eldest brother, "but I …"

"Are innocent." Thomas said gently, closing the gap between the three of them. "We all are."

"Oh Thomas!" Lewis sobbed, clinging onto the other spirit.

Nathan joined him and as the three stood there in a warm embrace, they began to change. Thomas' bruises became clear skin, Nathan looked younger and less haggard, while the years just melted away from Lewis. When they stepped back, they looked as they must have before this nightmare began, as they did when they were happy.

"No!" Edward's dark voice called out.

Instinctively, Dean moved to shield Nicki as Sam took his place between them and the twisted spirit. Edward raised his destroyed arm to point at his refreshed brothers.

"You can not stop me!" He shrieked. "I will purge the world of this corruption!"

"No, Edward," Nathan said firmly, stepping away from his two brothers, "we will."

He reached back, taking the hands of the others.

"The time has come," Thomas said softly, "let us rest, my brothers."

As one, the three rushed forward, wrapping around Edward. There was a blinding flash, and the spirits were no more.

* * *

So, I hope no one was dissapointed with the way the ghost were put to rest and I REALLY hope it didn't confuse anyone. (If it did, just re-read Sam's first POV and it should make more sense.)

Let me know what you think and I will get started on the LAST chapter. ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Well, here ya go (finally), the last chapter of THIS story. (Remember it is part of a series.)

I would like to say thanks to all the people who stuck with me through this freakishly long journey (It won't happen like this next time, I promise) and a special thanks to my most persistent ... annoying ... yet lovable ... supporter, Monkeymuse. (You rock.)

BTW, I hope I didn't make Dean too rude in this chapter, but when people try to keep him from his family he tends to get that way.

Anyway, enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 20**

Dean walked through the hospital hallway, every voice around him sounded like it was under water. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sam waiting at the end of the hallway. Part of him wanted to go back to his brother, but a stronger part pushed him on. The farther he walked, the younger Sam was when he looked back, but still he pressed on. Something was at the end of the hallway … someone who needed him. When he reached the place where the hallway turned, he found a hospital bassinet. Inside was a beautiful baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket.

"Hey." He whispered.

She opened her big green eyes and looked up at him and he knew who she was. Just when he reached out to touch her, he heard a scream from the end of the hall.

"Dean! Help!"

Whipping around, Dean saw men in suits dragging his teenage brother farther down the hall.

"Get away from him!" Dean yelled taking a step forward.

Suddenly another movement caught his eye and he saw a nurse pushing the baby away.

"Wait!" He called after her.

"Please don't let them take me!" Sam shouted, just before the baby started to cry.

Dean looked back and forth between them, torn at what to do.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, reaching towards him.

He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't breath. The sound of the baby's wails mixed with Sam's pleas and overwhelmed him. He covered his ears wishing it would stop.

"Dean!"

He opened his eyes and looked up into the concerned face of his full grown brother.

"Hey," Sam's tone softened, "are you alright?"

He looked around to see he was laying in a hospital bed surrounded by Sam, Bobby, and a doctor who barely looked old enough to drive.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, taking note of sensors stuck all over him and the IV in his hand. "Where's Nicki."

"You daughter is in the pediatrics ward." The doctor answered.

"How is she doing?"

"She is in good hands." The doctor said quickly, rushing forward to stop Dean from pulling off all the sensors. "Mr. Gable, I am Dr. Selway, your attending and- please don't touch that!"

Gable? He must have been really out of it if he made a Gone With The Wind reference … that or Sam was being a girl again.

"Mr. Gable," Dr. Selway tried again, this time more firmly, "you have just been through quiet an ordeal."

"Uh-huh." Dean muttered, unhooking himself from one of the machines.

"And you body has taken a substantial beating." The doctor continued.

"Uh-huh."

"And, as I was just telling your family, I would ike to keep you here overnight for observation."

"Yeah, that's great." Dean smiled, peeling the tape off of his IV. "Where are the AMA papers?"

For a moment, the young doctor looked stunned, while Sam and Bobby stood in the corner trying not to laugh. Soon, Dr. Selway composed himself and started addressing Dean in a tone that he supposed was meant to convey authority, didn't work very well since he was so tiny Nicki could probably kick his a^$.

"Mr. Gable, I must strongly advise against this."

"Uh … yeah," Dean said sarcastically, "I believe that is why they are called 'against medical advice' papers."

Casting a glare at the snickering hunters in the corner, Dr. Selway stood to his full height of five foot four inches and looked down at where Dean was still laying on the bed.

"Mr. Gable, I must insist you stay."

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Dean stood to HIS full height, towering over the doctor.

"And I must insist I leave."

**~~~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~**

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was still laughing at the image of the tiny doctor trying to intimidate Dean, while his brother was finishing up getting dressed.

"Did junior give you the forms yet?" Dean asked, tying his shoe.

"My name is Dr. Selway," the physician said crossly, entering the room, "and I would appreciate the respect that title entails."

"And I would appreciate a doctor that is out of puberty." Dean mumbled.

"I assure you, Mr. Gable, I am old enough."

"To drink or vote?"

The man glared at him and held out the forms, leaving as soon as they were signed. As soon as he was gone, Dean turned to the amused hunters that waited in the corner.

"So, what do you know about Nicki?" Dean asked, pulling on his leather jacket.

Bobby had managed to find Dean's things stashed in the cabin before they left, but most of the clothes were beyond repair. Thankfully, his favorite jacket was not one of them.

"Her doctor said she has a lung infection." Sam explained. "They want to keep her overnight, but she'll be fine."

"Where?"

"Second floor."

Dean nodded and led the way to the elevators, but did a 180 when he reached the corner.

"Dude, 5-O." He whispered, pushing Sam the other way.

"Mr. Gable?" A voice called from very close behind them.

D^%& it. The brother's turned to see two plain clothes cops walking up to them. One was short and stocking, with thinning black hair. The other was average size with cropped blond hair and smokey gray eyes.

"I'm Detective Hatcher," the short one said, "and this is my partner Detective Jones. We understand this has to be a difficult time for you, but we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

That was different, Sam thought to himself. Usually when the cops wanted to talk to Dean it ended with an assault or an arrest. Guess things were different when you were just a victim.

"Well, since you asked nicely …" Dean started, "no."

Dean stepped around them and pushed the button for the elevator, but the cops just followed him.

"WE know this isn't easy, after what you have gone through-"

"How the h&%^ do you know what I have gone through?" Dean questioned.

Sam had been wondering the same thing. Neither he nor Bobby had so much as seen the police before now. Where were they getting their information?

"We spoke to your daughter." Jones explained.

"You want?" Dean glared. "What were you doing talking to her?"

"She was willing to do it," Hatcher assured him, "and her mother was with her the whole time."

Her mother? Oh s#*^! Sam hadn't talk to Caroline since before Nicki disappeared. She was going to kill them. And speaking of Caroline …

"Dean?" She called, stepping off the elevator.

Before any of the hunters had a chance to react, Caroline threw her arms around Dan in a tearful embrace.

"Thank you!" She cried. "I thought … I don't know what I would have done if … thank you for saving my baby!"

Dean shot Sam a bewildered expression over the nearly hysterical woman's shoulder, but he was just as confused as his brother.

"What all did Nicki tell you?" Bobby questioned.

"That she had been abducted by the Night Stalker and her father got himself taken trying to save her." Jones began, flipping through his notes. "He managed to keep them both alive for the next few days, until he finally managed to escape and call his brother."

D^&%, that kid was good.

"And Sam," Caroline wiped her eyes, pulling away from Dean, "I understand you were out of town with your uncle, but don't you think you should have called the police at some point?"

A cover story for him AND Bobby? That kid was SCARY good.

**~~~~~~~~~~~Dean's POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

After managing to get away from the cops, and Caroline, the hunters finally managed to get into Nicki's room. When they saw her, Dean let out a small sigh of relief. Aside from an IV and a couple of monitors, she looked perfectly healthy. In fact, when they stepped in the room she was sitting up in bed, doodling on a napkin, with the hospital phone pressed to her ear. Typical Nicki.

"I'm telling you, Julius, this will work." She stated, concentrating on her drawing. "Just get rid of the Tabasco sauce exactly as I said, and it will never be traced back to you. Trust me."

"Make sure he wipes his prints." Dean suggested.

She looked up, a large grin spreading across her face.

"First thing I told him … no, not you, Dad's here … Yeah, I'll tell him … Later." She hung up and turned back to her picture. "Julius is glad we aren't dead and wants Uncle Sam to call him when he gets the chance."

"What did you tell him?" Sam wondered.

"The truth … well most of it." Nicki answered with a shrug. "Since he hadn't heard from you for a while, he thought something had happened. I told him the ghost got us and Uncle Sam saved us. No muss, no fuss."

"And the Tabasco sauce?" Bobby questioned.

Nicki smiled innocently, but didn't answer. Sam pulled out his cell phone, muttered something about being right back, and headed towards the exit.

"One more thing," Nicki said, pushing her artwork aside, "I told the cops that, while making our escape, we accidentally burned the cabin down, so you might want to go torch it before they find it."

"I got it." Bobby said, slipping out of the room.

Dean snagged a chair and pulled it up next to Nicki's bed.

"So, you doing okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, but the doc says I have a stupid lung infection and can't get out of here until tomorrow morning." She grumbled. "Man, I hate hospitals. How come YOU get to check out AMA but I can't?"

"Perks of being an adult."

"No," Nicki shook her head, "I think it's the perks of being six foot and scary."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled, "there's that too."

She dropped her eyes, fiddling with the edge of the thin hospital blanket.

"So … um … I'm no good at this touchy feely crap …" She started, "but I just … I wanted to say thanks … or know … for fighting for me."

"Any time … bat girl."

Dean smiled as he saw realization spread across her face.

"You jerk!" She exclaimed, nailing him with her pillow. "You read my diary!"

"Hey," Dean laughed, raising his arms to block the blows "you started it."

**~~~~~~~~~Sam's POV~~~~~~~~~~**

The next day, the hunters packed up, ready to hit the road, but they had one last stop to make. Caroline had begged the three of them to come by the bar for lunch before they left. Walking in, Sam scanned the room and spotted Nicki at a table near the stage.

"Hey guys!" She waved.

"Nicki, what are you doing in a bar?" Sam asked.

"Well … technically it's a saloon," she corrected, "and minors are allowed in until ten."

She passed out menus as they sat down.

"Mom said to order whatever you want and she'll put it on her tab. Also, her boss said drinks are on the house."

"Nice." Dean muttered, scanning the menu.

They were about halfway done with their meal when Caroline went on break.

"Hey, hows the food?" She asked, stepping up behind her daughter.

"Great." Dean said around a mouthful of steak.

"Oh, that's gre- Nicki! What are you eating!"

Nicki set down her hamburger and tilted her head back so she could see her mom.

"Food." She mumbled, before swallowing the bite. "Dad said I could."

She glared at Dean, but before she had a chance to open her mouth she was summoned back to the stage.

"You may want to bail before her next break." Nicki whispered.

Dean nodded in agreement, polishing off the last of his meal. He was just reaching for his beer when Caroline got to the microphone.

"I would like to dedicate this song to my daughter, Nicki." She smiled towards their table, as a spotlight shone on Nicki. "This is for you, baby."

The teen turned red and sunk low into her seat, muttering something about payback that was drowned out as the music started.

"_In my daughter's eyes I am a hero  
I am strong and wise and I know no fear  
But the truth is plain to see  
She was sent to rescue me  
I see who I wanna be  
In my daughter's eyes …_"

As she sang, Sam caught a glimmer of pain on his brother's face.

"Hey," he whispered, "you okay?"

"Fine." Dean muttered back, suddenly fascinated with his beer.

"_This miracle God gave to me gives me  
strength when I am weak  
I find reason to believe  
In my daughter's eyes_

_And when she wraps her hand  
__around my finger  
Oh it puts a smile in my heart  
Everything becomes a little clearer  
I realize what life is all about_

_It's hangin' on when your heart  
has had enough  
It's giving more when you feel like giving up  
I've seen the light  
It's in my daughter's eyes …_"

Suddenly, Dean got up and headed out the door.

"What's wrong with Dad?" Nicki asked, concern all over her face.

"Don't worry about him," Sam gave her a reassuring smile, "I'm sure he's fine."

Excusing himself, Sam found Dean leaning against the side of the Impala.

"What the h&%^, man?" Sam threw up his arms. "What was that?"

"I just needed some air." Dean shrugged, a calm mask firmly in place.

"What's going on with you?" Sam questioned, leaning against the car next to him.

"Nothing." He stated firmly. "I just was tired of listening to that country crap and needed a break."

"Dean, you have been like this for way longer then we've been here." Sam pointed out. "What's the deal?"

"Nothing, alright." Dean stepped away from the car. "Nothing is wrong with me, nothing is bothering me, so just drop it."

"Dean, I-"

"Forget it, Sam." He cut him off, giving him a hard look. "Let's go say goodbye to Nicki so we can hit the road. Maybe Ellen has a job for us."

Sam nodded and followed his brother back inside, but there was no way in h*#^ he was letting this drop. Dean had carried this pain alone for too long, and Sam was going o help him … whether he liked it or not.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed it, and I really hope you will join me in the next story where we learn Dean's big secret. :)

COMING (as) SOON (as I get a couple reviews in the first chapter is ready): Story #3 ~ "Nunquam Indulgeo , Nunquam Alieno"


End file.
